


Horsing around

by The_Devils_Palace



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Animal Transformation, Bodyswap, Curses, Don't mess with fairy rings, Drinking, Drinking Games, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Fairy Tale Elements, First Time, Frottage, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Human Roach (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion is a Horse, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oblivious Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, POV Roach, Roach is a human, fairy nonsense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 49,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24353914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Devils_Palace/pseuds/The_Devils_Palace
Summary: It's been a long frustrating day and Jaskier has managed to 'acquire' some good wine. Drinking games ensue, confessions are made and they end up in bed together. The following morning Geralt gets up early after hearing a strange noise. When he gets back to camp, Jaskier is gone and Roach is freaking out. Was Jaskier leading him on? Does he regret it?Little does he know that they have disturbed a fairy ring, and now...Jaskier and Roach have been body swapped.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 201
Kudos: 353





	1. Wine and dice

**Author's Note:**

> I have wanted to write in this fandom for a while. I love this pairing so much. After a while spitballing ideas with a dear friend, this terrible idea came to be. I have many ideas for this. I hope you enjoy it.

Geralt was annoyed. It had been...a long day. He'd taken out a particularly difficult nest of drowners, in a particularly treacherous swamp. The mud was thick and had a habit of appearing like solid ground until stepped on. Geralt had slipped up to his waist at least five times just getting out of the wretched place. To top off his exasperating day, the lordling that requested the swamp be cleared refused to pay. Geralt had tracked mud through the manor hallway and he claimed his carpets were worth more than the contract. He stuck to this despite one of Geralt’s particularly threatening growls. 

He left and made his way back towards the campsite he had set up with Jaskier earlier. With no money to stay at a local inn, he would be bathing in a cold river and eating whatever they could scrounge. Geralt felt even more tired just thinking about it.

“Geralt! You’re looking gloomier than usual.” Jaskier pops up beside him as he walks back to camp. Geralt grunts in return. “Well...I may have something that will cheer you up.” He pulls a purse out of his pack and tosses it at Geralt. Geralt catches it and feels the surprising weight of it.

“Jaskier?” He gives the bard one of his exasperated looks. What trouble could the bard have got himself into that would produce this much coin?

“I had an inkling, call it bardic intuition if you will, that Lord Fopdoodle might stiff you on the payment. So, I took the liberty of acquiring your payment for you, and some lovely bottles of Toussaint Red as a thank you.” Jaskier grins up at him, adjusting his pack and making the bottles clink. 

“...and now I’ll be labeled a thief as well as a monster?” He looks pointedly at the bard, but a smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. 

“I will have you know my good Witcher that the song I will write about this escapade will paint you in a most honourable light. And we both know history is written by those with the finest bards.” Jaskier bows awkwardly and laughs.

“Hmm.” Geralt hums, letting a slow smile pull at his lips. He lets go of some of the tension that had built up over the day. Jaskier always seems to manage to keep him grounded despite the trouble he brings.

They get back to the camp. Geralt goes to wash off the swamp mud in the nearby stream and Jaskier starts a fire so they eat the last of their food. Once they finish eating, Geralt gets up and brushes down Roach, murmuring to her as he goes. She nudges him gently with the side of her head and he runs a hand softly through her mane.

As the evening darkens and it gets colder, they spread out their bedrolls near the fire. Jaskier pulls one of the bottles out of his pack and expertly uncorks it. He takes a long swig and sighs.

“This really is one of the finest reds.” He passes the bottle to Geralt. Geralt takes a long swig and lets the deep full taste of the wine wash over him. He passes the bottle back to Jaskier.

“Fancy making this interesting?” Jaskier says, a playful smirk on his face. He pulls a dice poker set from his pack. Geralt rolls his eyes.

“Feels like bad form to take coin from you after today, bard.” He says, a playful smile on his lips.

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t be the one to be taking your coin. But, I was going to suggest we play for swigs from the bottle. Keep things friendly.” He sets out the small carved wood tray and hands Geralt the five dice. 

They play companionably. Both taking many swigs from the bottle until they open the next and then the next. Geralt feels warm with the haze of good wine. His normally sharp vision blurs at the edges. This is probably a bad idea. But, he can never quite refuse the bard the occasional bad idea. After everything, sometimes it's good just to drink, play dice and forget about the rest. Just for a while. 

Jaskier’s eyes light up everytime he wins and Geralt has to take a swig. Geralt plays lazily, mostly just to see that smile. He ends up drinking a fair bit more than Jaskier, but thanks to his Witcher blood they are in a similar state of drunken haze.

“Well...that was the last of it.” Jaskier says after taking the last swig and tossing the bottle over his shoulder. “Guess we will have to bet something else.” He grins mischievously at Geralt.

“I am not taking my clothes off.” Geralt says immediately. Jaskier splutters with laughter.

“I love that that's where your mind went first dear Witcher...and as attractive a prospect as that may be. I was thinking we could wager truths.” He grins at Geralt. “Surely there are things you have been dying to ask me? I know there are things I have been dying to ask you.”

“Hmm” Geralt hums noncommittally. 

“Come on Geralt! Where’s the fun in dice if there isn't something in it? And where’s the fun in drinking this much fine wine if we don’t share some of our darkest secrets.” Jaskier nudges Geralt and holds his gaze pleadingly. Geralt looks into those mischievous blue eyes. He was never very good at saying no to him...and the bard has a point. Dice was no fun without something to wager. 

“Fine.” He sighs, leaning back and looking up at the stars between the trees. Jaskier hoots and turns back to the dice, setting them up for another game.

Geralt takes a deep breath. He needs to focus this time. The bard has always been curious about everything to do with him. There are only so many questions about his past he wishes to answer. 

Geralt roles first, he gets a pair of twos and a pair of fours. A fair roll. Jaskier rolles three threes. It’s hard to call but Geralt likes his chances. He rolls and gets a two, a full house. Jaskier gets a one and a five. He huffs and looks at Geralt.

“Fine, you win. What do you want to know?” He says, pretending to be put out but Geralt can sense the smile lurking behind his lips.

“Hmm.” Geralt thinks, what does he want to know about the bard? He’s never really thought about it. But then, he remembers something. “Who is Valdo Marx? The whole story.”

“Well you go in hard and fast.” Jaskier huffs, playing up. “Valdo Marx...ergh, he was contemporary of mine at Oxenfurt. Always thought he was better than me and liked me to know it too. Called me ‘a talentless wastrel who panders to the taste of the masses’. As if that hack would know a good song if it struck him on his beaky nose.” Jaskier’s voice got progressively louder as he went on and his heartbeat rose slightly. “His mastery of the lute was admittedly beautiful. Could move his fingers faster than Roach can bite an inattentive stable boy’s fingers. But, his music had no soul whatsoever. Had the nerve to call me talentless for singing about my feelings. I did so enjoy beating him in our final year. Wiping the smug look off his face gives me joy even all these years later.” Jaskier looks into the distance wistfully. Geralt can smell melancholy wafting off Jaskier.

“That’s not the whole story.” Geralt says pointedly.

“Yes it is.” Jaskier says back, the pitch at the end of his words giving him away.

“Come on bard. Out with it. Remember, what's the point of wine if we don’t share our darkest secrets?” Geralt teases him. Jaskier huffs indignantly.

“Fine! I may have slept with him...once.” Jaskier says unconvincingly.

“Jaskier.”

“Ok, ok. Maybe more than once. Maybe quite a few times. I actually thought I might have been in love with him for a while. Then, he left me and told everyone my music was terrible and then...I may have chucked his lute off a bridge. There, you happy now?” 

“You threw his lute off a bridge?” Geralt laughs.

“It was not one of my finest moments Geralt. But that filthy tallowcatch deserved it.” 

“Remind me never to get on your bad side. I don’t fancy going swimming for my swords in a sewage filled river somewhere.” Geralt teases looking at the bard with drunken fondness.

“Then don’t break my heart and call my songs puffed up drivel.” Jaskier laughs bitterly. Geralt stares at him, he is flushed from the wine in a way that makes him look rather beautiful in the firelight. He is sprawled in a relaxed manner on his bedroll, but there is an edge to his gaze. It suggests some real pain. 

“He must have hurt you pretty badly for his pain to be the first thing you wished for with the Djinn.” Geralt says quietly. He doesn’t like the idea of someone hurting the bard that much.

“Yes, well...I was young. He was the first person I thought I loved. Anyway, shall we play again?” He picked up his dice and cast his gaze down to the tray.

“Sure.” Geralt agreed.

Jaskier rolled first this time. He rolled three sixes, a one and a two. Geralt rolled a pair of threes, a pair of ones and a two. A close game. Jaskier re rolled the one and two and got a two and a four. Geralt rolled a four. 

“A three beats out a pair of pairs. I win!” crowed Jaskier. “My turn for a truth...so many things I want to ask.” His eyes wide and excited.

“Out with it bard.” barks Geralt impatiently.

“I’m thinking! So many things I would love to know...”

“Come on…”

“Ok. Is it true what they say about Witcher stamina?” He grins at Geralt and raises his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh for gods sake Jaskier.” Geralt huffs, flushing as much as his Witcher blood will allow.

“Come on Geralt! The whole story.” Jaskier voices the last part in a mocking impression of Geralt’s gruff voice. Geralt rolls his eyes and presses his lips into a thin line. He sighs irritably. He thinks back over the various sexual encounters he has had or heard tell of from his brothers at Kaer Morhen.

“From my experience, and from what I hear we last somewhat longer than the average man. But, we can go several times easily. Where most men can only manage more than once at a push.”

“Interesting. Interesting...what experience is that?” Jaskier asks, leaning forward with delighted interest.

“I answered your question.” Geralt grumbles.

“Whole story Witcher!” Jaskier pushes. Geralt sighs again. He knows the wine is loosening his lips.

“If any of this makes it into any of your songs bard, I swear to Melitele I will skin you, tan your hide and turn you into a new saddle bag for Roach.” Geralt growls without any real bite.

“My lips are sealed.” Jaskier makes an over dramatic show of locking his lips and throwing away an imaginary key.

“There have been a few men over the years. Nothing that's lasted. A few whores, an adventurer I met at an inn once, a stable hand…”

“Wait! What?” Jaskier interrupted. “You fucked a stable boy? Please tell me it wasn’t in front of Roach? Her poor innocent eyes!” Geralt glares at him. “Ok. Ok, please carry on.” barely contained mirth glinting in his eyes. 

“When I was young, as you might expect, there were not many women around Kaer Morhen. There was a fellow Witcher I shared a bed with a couple of times.” Geralt looks over at Jaskier waiting for a reaction with a smirk on his face. He has definitely had too much wine. Jaskier’s face is comical in its combination of shock, mirth and curiosity. His eyes and mouth wide open for a good few seconds before he remembers to speak.

“Ohhhh, you are telling me that story. Right now!” Jaskier gasps excitedly.

“That was not part of the truth you asked for. If you want details then you will have to win again at dice bard.” Geralt teases.

“Then let's go again.” Jaskier pushes himself up to lean over the dice tray once more.

This time Geralt wins with a pair to Jaskier’s nothing. Not the most satisfying win but a win nonetheless.

“Hmmm.” Geralt taps his chin mockingly, enjoying making the bard wait. “What is your real name? I am almost certain it isn't Jaskier.” He fixes Jaskier with a playful look.

“Really Witcher?” He huffs petulantly. “Fine. It’s...it’s Julian.” He looks away as if expecting laughter.

“Whole name bard.” Geralt barks. Jaskier rolls his eyes.

“Ok, fine. My full name is Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.” He finishes with a mock bow from where he is sitting. “You happy now?”

“Yes. Very.” Geral says smirking. “Viscount? I would never have guessed with your terrible manners.”

“I will have you know, dear Witcher, that my manners are impeccable. Particularly when compared to you Mr ‘grunts instead of using actual words’.” Jaskier responds in mock outrage.

“I like Julian.” Geralt says quietly. He looks at Jaskier with all the fondness afforded him by the best part of two bottles of fine wine. Jaskier goes oddly quiet, a strange look on his face. He avoids Geralt's gaze for a moment then meets it with a soft smile and a slight flush rising on his cheeks.

“Truth be told, I don’t hate it. But Jaskier feels more like me now.” He says turning his gaze from Geralt to the fire. He sits up and places another log on the fire, which has died down slightly. “Another round? I will beat you this time, my dear Geralt.”

They play again. Geralt wins again. This time with a five high straight to Jaskier’s three. 

“I really thought I had you there!” Jaskier moans. “Go on then. Ask away!” He flops back sighing dramatically.

“Hmmm.” Geralt actually has to think this time. What does he want to know about the bard? The thing is because he talks so incessantly there isn't exactly a lot left that he is curious about. Jaskier has always been so open with him. Open in a way Geralt struggles to be. Not that he will ever tell the bard that, but it is one of the things Geralt likes about him. Words do not come easily to Geralt, so there is something fulfilling about being around someone who can express themselves with such ease. Someone who loves so easily without the burdens of being a mutant, a monster.

“You ok there Geralt?” Jaskier asks. Geralt shakes himself out of his maudlin thoughts and focuses again on Jaskier.

“Yeah. Just thinking.” he replies.

“A dangerous pastime.” Jaskier says playfully. He keeps his gaze on Geralt, something unreadable in his eyes.

“You say you thought you loved Valdo Marx. Only thought? Have you loved someone?” Geralt is surprised when the question slips out. He wasn’t intending to ask that, but the wine it seems was making his decisions for him. Jaskier looks at him for a long moment, clearly sharing his surprise.

“Interesting question. I was young when I met Valdo. Everything seems like the end of the world and dreadfully important at that age. I think, looking back, I was in love with his music. He could play so beautifully in a way my fingers would not allow. But his writing was honestly terrible and his personality even worse.” He pauses deep in thought. “If I am being truthful, and by gods this wine is insisting I be so, I fall in love superficially very easily. Normally over something I admire or am drawn to: a way with words, a certain spark in the eye, a captivating way of moving, an air of mystery and adventure. I get caught up in what I hope the person will be and often do not leave much room to learn to love who they actually are.”

Jaskier sighs, staring wistfully into the fire. He looks almost sad.

“I have, however, fallen truly in love twice. Both times it kind of snuck up on me. I had known them for longer and had a chance to truly appreciate them as people first. Instead of getting caught up in the romance. Sadly, in both cases those feelings were not reciprocated.” Jaskier smiles sadly at Geralt. They hold each other's gaze for a moment before Jaskier turns back to the fire. Geralt isn’t sure what to do with this information. It stirs up an unfamiliar combination of emotions deep in his chest. Though that is probably also the wine.

“Who are they?” He asks quietly.

“For that, you will have to win again at dice.” Jaskier says with a wink. “And this time I will not be beaten. I can feel it.” He picks up the dice again.

This time Jaskier wins with a full house to Geralt’s nothing. Jaskier hoots in delight. Geralt draws in a resigned breath and waits for the question he expects to hear. It’s been a long time since he has talked about Eskel.

“What do you really think of my singing? He asks, staring pointedly at Geralt with mirth in his eyes. Geralt sputters at first in shock and then can't help but let out a deep chuckle. Jaskier breaks into laughter too.

“For gods sake Jaskier.” Geralt says a mixture of amused and exasperated. “Didn’t that get me into enough trouble last time?”

“Come on. You lost. Now tell me. How good is my singing?”

“Very good, I like it a lot actually. Always have.” Geralt says smiling. The wine and the beam on Jaskier’s face makes his chest blossom with warmth.

“I knew you just needed a nap.” Jaskier replies laughing, a slight blush across his nose and cheeks. “Again?”

They play again. It appears Geralt’s luck has run out. Jaskier beats him a four to a three. 

“Now...what to ask? So many things...Oh I’ve got it! Tell me about the stable boy! Full story, I want all the details!” Jaskier bites his lip in anticipation, clearly excited to hear more. Geralt grimaces.

“Really?”

“You lost, Witcher.”

“Fine. I was young, I had not been on the Path all that long. I met him in a small town in Redania. I was staying in the inn. He complimented me on Roach…”

“Is that all it takes to get into the mighty White Wolf’s small clothes? Compliment his horse? Well if I knew that sooner…” Jaskier laughs, shoving Geralt in the shoulder. He settles down next to Geralt, their shoulders brushing.

“Shut up bard.” he barks, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. The wine has definitely gone to his head. “Do you want the story or not?

“Yes. Yes! My goodness yes.”

“We talked for a while about horses. We ended up having a drink. He was interesting and…not afraid of me. I can’t remember how now but we ended up taking a literal roll in hay several drinks later.” Geralt stares into the fire, recalling the memory, flax coloured hair, blue eyes, a soft smile. He feels coils of heat begin to form at the memory.

“So you did do it in front of Roach!” Jaskier gasps in mock outrage.

“No.”

“You did!”

“I did not.”

“The poor horse. Scarred for life from the sight of your lovely bottom.”

“Shut up bard!” He shoves Jaskier and the bard goes sprawling sideways laughing. Jaskier lies on the floor giggling. He looks good like this, his eyes full of mirth, the firelight playing beautifully across him. Geralt let himself just look at him for a moment. He rarely allows himself to just look. He knew his feelings for the bard were not worth indulging. 

Jaskier lets out a happy sigh as he finally stops laughing. “Again?” He climbs back up and sits next to Geralt again. This time their shoulders and knees are touching.

“Fine.” Geralt replies. Instead of moving from the touch as he would if he were sober he just allows it. Part of him sighing in pleasure at the closeness. He lets the wine stop him from thinking about it too much.

This time Geralt wins with two pairs to Jaskier’s one. He tries to think of something he wants to know. Geralt has heard about most of the bard’s conquests in great, and often unwanted, detail. The bard just has this easy way with people that Geralt could not quite understand. He has never had it easy with people. This wasn’t just because he’s a Witcher; his brothers often fared better than him. Jaskier always seems to know what to say and how to say it. Granted, this ability seems to most often get him into trouble rather than out of it. 

He has watched Jaskier pursue people many times. Often trying to work out just what Jaskier did to ingratiate himself to others so well. How he would catch their eye across the room. How he would charm them with stories and pretty words. Then would come the touches, casual at first but becoming less so as the other party showed interest. After that came the quiet words spoken softly in the other’s ear. He always wondered what it was that Jaskier said to them. Even with his Witcher hearing, he has never caught more than a few hushed words.

“When you are pursuing one of your conquests, you whisper something to them. What do you say?” The question slips out of Geralt before he really registers what he is saying. This wine has a lot to answer for.

Jaskier turns to him, an expression of slight surprise on his face. “An interesting choice of question. Is there someone you are trying to woo?” he says teasingly. 

“Just answer the question bard.” Geralt huffs, heat creeping across his face.

Well you see Geralt, it's not what I whisper but how I get there. Like a good story, a good seduction builds and releases tension. You give them a little bit and see if they pull towards you. If they do, they want what you offer, then you give them a little of what they seek and the game begins. You give them a smile, they give you one. You give them a look that lasts a little too long, they hold your gaze. You share something personal, that feels secret, they share something with you. You get closer and brush against them, they move closer to you.” Jaskier turns, his shoulder still touching Geralt’s but his face closer, watching him.

“Sometimes the most powerful move you can make is to show some vulnerability.” He continues. “In some senses you could say anything by that point. But I have a few things that tend to work for me.”

“And what are they?” Geralt holds Jaskier’s gaze. Jaskier shifts, turning to face Geralt’s side. 

“How about a demonstration?” Jaskier smirks his voice laced with challenge and wine soaked bravado. Geralt stiffens, he really should put a stop to this. He has taken this a bit too far. Why did he ask this question? He feels hot, the wine and Jaskier’s proximity making him feel like he is spinning. He makes no move to stop what’s happening. Part of him really wants to know what it's like to be the subject of this kind of the bard’s attention. 

Jaskier leans forward. His cheek brushes ever so lightly against Geralt’s. Geralt can feel his warm breath next to his ear. His whole body feels like it's on fire, like it's ready for battle, the tension thrumming through him. 

“I have watched you...all evening. I want you.” The warmth of Jaskier’s breath so close to his ear causes Geralt to shiver. “I want to put my mouth on you, to taste you, to feel your skin on mine. I want it so much...I ache for you.” 

Geralt lets out a breath he did not realise he was holding. The image Jaskier has painted has stoked the heat that has been building within him all evening. He can almost feel Jaskier smile triumphantly as he begins to pull away.

Without really registering what was happening, Geralt feels his arm move. He grips the top of Jaskier’s arm, stopping him from pulling away. Before he realises what he is doing he turns his head so he is facing Jaskier, their noses are nearly touching. There is pause. Geralt’s mind is refusing to catch up with the actions of his body. All he can think of are Jaskier’s words, his eyes on his lips. The pause drips with tension and their wine soaked breath. Before the moment breaks Geralt closes his eyes and presses his lips against the bard’s. 

Jaskier makes a surprised noise. It is at this moment that Geralt’s mind does catch up with him. What is he doing? Damn this wine. He starts to pull back, but before he can move Jaskier has crushed their lips together with a moan that sends shivers down Geralt’s spine. Geralt can't help but lean in deeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have recently started creating illustrations for Horsing around. Here is the one for chapter 1. It is the moment before Geralt kisses Jaskier. 
> 
> https://the-devils-goose.tumblr.com/post/624531353143312384/a-few-months-ago-i-started-writing-my-first-ever


	2. Until Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt’s kissing him. Jaskier can’t believe it. I mean yes, they had been flirting in a way. But no more so than any other drunken evening. Jaskier had been flirting with him for years, torn between his desire and his wish to preserve their friendship. By this point he was sure the attraction was not reciprocated. Yet here he was with Geralt’s lips pressed to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter...still no horse nonsense. It's coming I swear. Just setting everything up...for maximum angst. You're welcome. This chapter was actually really hard to write. Normally I love writing sex but I am just so excited to write the actual plot part this felt more like a chore...but I hope you like it! ^^

“I have watched you...all evening. I want you.” It was thrilling being this close to Geralt. Jaskier felt him shiver as his breath caught Geralt’s ear. The wine was making him bold. “I want to put my mouth on you, to taste you, to feel your skin on mine. I want it so much...I ache for you.” He hears Geralt let out a breath. At least he had rattled him, even if this line wouldn’t work on Geralt. He pulled away a triumphant smile tugging at his lips.

Geralt’s hand grabs the top of his arm. Jaskier jumps, not expecting the contact. His eyes refocus slowly, the wine inhibiting his reactions. He is nose to nose with Geralt. Neither of them are moving, just stuck there, close enough to share each other's breath. Geralt closes his eyes and before Jaskier can really take in what’s happening Geralt’s lips are pressed to his. He makes a very undignified noise in response.

Geralt’s kissing him. Jaskier can’t believe it. I mean yes, they had been flirting in a way. But no more so than any other drunken evening. Jaskier had been flirting with him for years, torn between his desire and his wish to preserve their friendship. By this point he was sure the attraction was not reciprocated. Yet here he was with Geralt’s lips pressed to his.

He feels Geralt freeze and start to pull away. He can’t have that, not now. He returns the kiss, moaning at the feel of his lips on Geralt’s. He can feel Geralt lean in closer. This must just be the wine right? Geralt has never shown the slightest interest, has he? Yet here he is, kissing Jaskier.

Jaskier pulls closer and moves one hand to hold the side of Geralt’s face. He feels Geralt relax under his touch, he leans slightly into Jaskier’s hand. The kiss deepens and Jaskier can feel Geralt’s tongue pressing at his lips. He opens his mouth and lets Geralt tease him with his tongue. He gets utterly lost in the movement of their mouths, the way their lips and tongues move together. He can smell the wine on both their breaths, but that just makes the experience all the more heady.

Geralt is kissing him. Geralt. Kissing him. Fuck.

Jaskier feels a surge of lust well up inside him. It overtakes the headiness of the kiss. He brings the hand on Geralt’s face to his hair running his fingers through it and gripping. This elicits a noise from Geralt that is somewhere between a moan and a growl. Jaskier needs to be closer to him, right now. He brings his other hand up to Geralt’s shoulder and pulls himself into the other man's lap, his knees either side of Geralt’s thighs. 

Geralt’s hands are suddenly all over him as he moans into the kiss. One slips to the back of his neck and runs through his hair, the other slips round his waist and up his back. Jaskier whines at the contact. He is pulled so close to Geralt now that he can feel his warmth pressed up against him. 

Jaskier has thought of what this would feel like for so long, that his mind can’t quite comprehend it's happening. If it wasn’t for the wine he would have probably have jumped back in disbelief by now. But the haze of the wine dulled that urge, so he just fell into it, enjoying every sensation. The slow shift of Geralt’s lips on his, the feeling of his legs either side of Geralt’s, his hand in Geralt’s surprisingly soft hair. The feeling of Geralt’s hands on him was especially heady. The hand running through his hair was practically making him melt further into the kiss, while the other was pulling him closer to Geralt’s warm body. 

He pressed closer to Geralt, wanting more. More of what he wasn’t sure, just more. As he pressed closer his crotch grazed over Geralt’s. They were both hard and the grind through their clothes caused both of them to freeze, Geralt with a whine and Jaskier with a groan. They hung there panting for what could have been a few minutes, knowing Geralt was hard beneath him was thrilling. The Witcher wanted this, wanted him, and the sounds he was making were driving Jasker slightly wild with lust. He could feel both of their bodies hum with tension and want. 

Jaskier ground his hips down experimentally, Geralt’s breath caught. The pressure felt amazing. He sighed into the contact, it felt so good. Geralt tensed under him and with a growl pushed up into Jaskier with such force that it pushed him onto his back, Geralt was pinning him there with his hips between Jaskier’s. His face was now drawn back far enough that they could hold each other's gaze for the first time since they started kissing. They pause, holding each other’s gaze. Jaskier shifts slightly under both the weight of the Witcher and his gaze.

“Fuck.” Geralt breaths, and slowly and deliberately grinds his hips into Jaskier’s. The feeling sends a shudder of pleasure deep through Jaskier. He can’t help but moan, eyes still locked with Geralt’s. Geralt looks so beautiful like this; his stare is intense, his lip is caught between his teeth, the firelight playing over his skin. Jaskier pushes up and kisses down Geralt’s jaw softly. Geralt leans into Jaskier burying his face in Jaskier’s hair. He can feel Geralt breathe in through his nose taking in Jaskier’s scent. 

Jaskier nuzzles into Geralt’s neck, kissing and licking the exposed skin there. The groan Geralt makes rumbles through him. Geralt grinds down more insistently and Jaskier pushes back to meet him. The slide of their cocks together even through clothes is electrifying. Jaskier moves his hands down Geralt’s body and pushes them beneath his shirt. His skin is warm to the touch, it has an interesting texture from to all the scars. Jaskier loses himself in tracing all the scars up Geralt’s back by touch alone. He can feel the taught muscles of Geralt’s back shift under his touch, he can feel the power in them. Jaskier has dreamed of touching Geralt this way for years. How could you not when the Witcher liked to walk around half naked so often? Geralt makes breathy moans into Jaskier’s hair at his touch. Jaskier could get so easily lost in those sounds.

As Jaskier works up Geralt’s back, his shirt is pulled higher and higher. Geralt eventually just pulls it over his head. Now Jaskier can see his bare chest lit enticingly in the firelight. He bites his lip and takes in the sight. Geralt looks down at him, a wine soft smile on his lips. He moves his hands to Jaskier’s chest and pushes his doublet over his shoulders. Jaskier wriggles out of it and then pulls his own shirt over his head. They are both half naked now, they catch each other’s gaze for a moment before something snaps. The softness of the moments before is gone. They pull each other closer, pressing bare skin to bare skin. Their mouths crush together desperately in a hungry kiss. The grinding resumes, Jaskier is lost in the warm weight of Geralt on top of him. It is all at once too much and not enough. 

Jaskier wants to be on top, he wants to be able to press his weight into Geralt and see him laid out beneath him. He brings his hands to Geralt’s shoulders and flips them over roughly. Geralt slams into the floor with a surprising thunk. Geralt at first looks surprised by the move, but within seconds a look of pure lust flashes across his face. He lets out a low growl that makes Jaskier shiver. He liked being thrown around did he? Interesting. Jaskier was a lot stronger than he looked, no match for the Witcher in a real fight but strong enough to manhandle even someone Geralt’s size. Jasker moves between Geralt’s thighs and rolls his hips into Geralt’s slowly and deliberately. Geralt whimpers, actually whimpers, at the contact.

Jaskier feels like he is on fire. He knows he should probably slow down. They have only exchanged one word since they started, but he doesn’t want to break the spell. He just wants to have this, even if it’s just for one night. Please gods let it be for more than one night. But if one night is all he has then he wants to make the most of it. He is so hot, when did it get so hot? He really wants to be out of all his clothes, he really wants Geralt out of his.

Jaskier kneels up between Geralt’s thighs and starts to unlace his britches. Geralt stares at what Jaskier’s hands are doing hungrily and very soon follows suit. They both pull off the rest of their clothes, all the grace they may have had taken by the wine. Jaskier ends up half falling back onto Geralt, catching himself right above Geralt’s face. Their bodies are now free from all clothing and the full body skin on skin contact takes Jaskier’s breath away for a second. He looks down at Geralt, he can see a similar combination of heat and softness reflected in his face. He leans down and kisses him full on and passionate and begins to move. Without their clothes their cocks can slide against each other. The sensation is magical, it sends shivers down his spine and he lets out a guttural moan.

Geralt’s hands are all over Jaskier; running down his sides, in his hair, grabbing at his ass and hips. Jaskier moans into the kiss. He just wants more of Geralt’s touch, more of his mouth, just more. He breaks the kiss and looks down at Geralt. He just looks so good like this; spread out under him all bare skin, messy hair and eyes darkened with lust. Fuck. Was this really happening? Damn that was some good wine. Jaskier could quite easily stare at Geralt like this for an age, but he has other plans. He moves his hand to Geralt’s mouth and presses gently and suggestively. Geralt shudders beneath him, opens his mouth and sucks in Jaskier’s fingers. He holds Jaskier’s gaze the whole time and Jaskier lets out a shiver of his own. Geralt’s mouth feels warm, wet and soft. Geralt is gently stroking his fingers with his tongue and Jaskier moans at the sensation. He looks down at Geralt with his mouth full of his fingers and lets out a groan. Jaskier wants to burn this image into his memory.

Reluctantly he pulls his fingers from Geralt’s mouth and uses them to slick both their cocks. This gives him the chance to take in Geralt’s cock properly for the first time. It is thicker than his but slightly shorter, it curves delightfully upwards. He wraps his long fingered hand around both of them and starts to work them both sensual and slow to start. They both groan at the sensation. Jaskier could get so lost in the sensation of his cock sliding against Geralt’s. Fuck. Geralt is panting beneath him, his hips are bucking into Jaskier’s grip. Jaskier keeps the movement slow to start. He wants to really feel this, really remember this. 

Geralt’s hands are back on him again, holding Jackier’s hips so he can press up more deliberately into Jaskier’s grip. Jaskier can feel the heat begin to build in his lower body, and can feel that he is sweating. He is so close to the point of letting go and chasing his pleasure. He adjusts his position so he is leaning closer into Geralt and then starts to move his hips in time with Geralt’s thrusts. The sensation is almost overwhelming, feeling their bodies move together like that. The point where Jaskier’s hand pushes them together like a hot focus of sensation. He can feel himself tense up and draw in, the pleasure coiling and waiting for release. Beneath him Geralt is moaning and panting with his hair stuck to his face. He looks utterly wrecked and beautiful. Jaskier imagines he must look very similar.

All of a sudden Geralt’s hips start to move erratically and he groans deep in his throat. Jaskier can feel the warm sticky spatter of his cum spilling into Jaskier’s hand. The feeling sends a shiver through Jaskier, he focuses on pulling Geralt through his orgasm and then releases him from his grip. Geralt lies before him chest heaving and beautiful in his post orgasm bliss. Jaskier kneels up and brings his cum covered hand to his mouth. He sucks his fingers into his mouth and tastes the bitter salt taste of Geralt, his other hand pulling himself off. He hears Geralt make a whimpering sound beneath him. He looks down and sees Geralt watching him intently, mouth slightly open. The combination of Geralt’s taste, the view of Geralt beneath him and the pace at which he is pulling himself off tips Jaskier over the edge. He splashes Geralt's stomach with his release. His eyes are drawn to the spot, the view of Geralt laid out beneath him covered in his spend. He never wants to forget this image either.

He leans down to kiss Geralt not caring about the sticky mess between them. He can feel the high of the orgasm descend into a big upwelling of emotion. Geralt, the person he had cared for and lusted over all these years. They had just...fuck. He put all his unspoken feelings into that kiss and Geralt came up to meet it. 

Eventually they drew apart panting. The adrenaline, the wine haze and intense emotion ebbing away. Shit. They had just...after all this time? Fuck. Jaskier just realised he hadn’t said a word since he whispered in Geralt’s ear, how long ago now? He wasn’t sure how long they had been at it. Could have been minutes….could have been hours. They would have to talk now right? What even just happened. Geralt had never shown real interest in him before but after some sweet words and too much wine suddenly here he was underneath Jaskier covered in both their spend? Was this just the wine? Fuck, what if this was just the wine? Jaskier wasn’t sure he could just go back to normal after this. I mean, yes, he could never regret doing this. But he couldn’t go back to just being Geralt’s friend when he knew how good Geralt looked when he came. Fuck. One of them should really say something, shouldn’t they? What the fuck would you even say now? What can you even say after that? Jaskier normally had so many words for every situation...but not this one. Fuck.

“Well, that was...unexpected.” he hears himself say before his brain really catches up. Really Jaskier? Of all the many, many, many words he knew that was what he went for? Unexpected. Unexpected. Really? Geralt huffs a small laugh and looks up at him, many emotions playing across his face. There is a long, very awkward pause.

“I have wanted that for a really long time.” Geralt says quietly, avoiding Jaskier’s gaze. Jaskier freezes above him. What? He wanted it? For a long time. Jaskier has so many thoughts colliding at this that he can't get them to form a single coherent thought let alone words. Geralt starts to shift uncomfortably underneath him. “Forget I said that. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to mean anything.” He mumbles awkwardly. Jaskier’s brain catches up with him then, because, fuck, he can’t have Geralt saying that.

“I’ve wanted that too...for a long time.” He says staring meaningfully into Geralt’s eyes. He brings his hand up to softly stroke Geralt’s cheek. Geralt closes his eyes and leans into the touch. Jaskier can feel the tension seep out of his body as he does so. He can feel the tiredness from the wine, the late hour and the wonderful orgasm creep up on him. He rolls off Geralt, pulling him along so they end up on their sides on the bedroll facing each other. They lie like that for a while just staring at each other smiling. Leaving all they were feeling unspoken. Eventually Jaskier feels a yawn tug at his lips and sleep pulling at his eyelids.

“Between that and the wine...I think I am about to fall asleep.” Jaskier says yawning. “Shall we talk in the morning? Will you hold me until then?” 

Geralt smiles at him and nods, pulling him in closer and pulling the blankets from the other bedroll over them. Jaskier nuzzles in close and breathes in the deep earthy scent of Geralt and sighs.

“Until the morning.” Geralt whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Geralt. Poor Jaskier. They have no idea what coming. :D


	3. Ignis fatuus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything was warm, but everything also kind of hurt. Geralt’s mind was taking a long time to come too. He was feeling the utter disorientation that followed drinking too much wine. He could hear the sounds of the forest: so they were camping. He could sense the daylight behind his eyelids: morning then. Everything was so warm and he didn’t want to move. Wait. Was he with someone? He began to take in the body of another person tangled with his own. The heady smell of Jaskier reaching Geralt’s nose made the Witcher start to recall the previous night. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Geralt. This is where the horsey nonsense begins...I'm excited. Are you?

Everything was warm, but everything also kind of hurt. Geralt’s mind was taking a long time to come too. He was feeling the utter disorientation that followed drinking too much wine. He could hear the sounds of the forest: so they were camping. He could sense the daylight behind his eyelids: morning then. Everything was so warm and he didn’t want to move. Wait. Was he with someone? He began to take in the body of another person tangled with his own. The heady smell of Jaskier reaching Geralt’s nose made the Witcher start to recall the previous night. Fuck.

He had...they had… Geralt’s mind was racing now, not a particularly wonderful experience with the headache brought on from last night's wine. Jaskier shifts and snuggles in closer to Geralt in his sleep. The press of their naked bodies together feels warm and safe. Jaskier had said they would talk in the morning. Geralt tries to centre himself. Jaskier was still here. If he was still here then he probably didn’t see it as a mistake right? But then...he hadn’t woken up yet. Enough. Geralt tries to quiet his mind and let himself just enjoy the warm embrace. 

He drifted off into a hazey half sleep for a while, just enjoying being this close to Jaskier. He had thought about what this would feel like in moments of weakness. Moments when he let himself wonder what it would be like to hold the bard’s attention. He had said he had wanted it for a long time too...hopefully that wasn’t just the wine. Jaskier was still here, still holding Geralt. It was going to be ok.

After a time, the urge to piss became overwhelming. He didn’t want to get up, but there was only so long even a Witcher could hold it. He carefully untangles himself from Jaskier and the bedroll making sure to disturb the bard as little as possible. Once he was free he took a minute to look down at him. He looks so peaceful with his messy hair and flushed cheeks. A wave of feeling washes over Geralt as he lets himself stare. He turns away reluctantly; he really needs to piss now.

There was a stream not too far from their camp. Geralt figures he will wash up and refill their water skins at the same time. As he is filling the water skins, he hears something. A movement. He froze, letting his senses take in as much as possible. He sees a flash of something to his left. He turns and focuses on where he thought the movement had been.

His brain and movements are slow and painful thanks to the hangover. He tries to relax and move past it, to focus and clear his mind. He catches the movement again in his peripheral. He turns fast to try and catch a glimpse. The movement feels like it sloshes his brain around inside his skull. He can't regret the wine and the places it lead...but this headache is trying his resolve.

He waits for the movement again, his unease growing. There is something not right about this. The lack of noise or smell suggests something magical. His medallion hums softly against him. This could be bad. He is alone, hungover and without most of his weapons. Fuck. He catches the movement again and gets a better look this time. It looks like a flash of light moving between the trees. The forest is still dim in the early morning light, the thick canopy above him adding to the gloom.

Geralt pulls his dagger from his belt and moves towards where he last saw the movement. He looks for tracks or any other signs of disturbance. He notes that there is very little disturbance of any kind here. No animal tracks, no human tracks, just lush plants and moss surrounding ancient trees. Disconcerting. He presses on, occasionally glimpsing the flash of light.

Geralt’s unease grows the further he gets from camp. He left Jaskier alone and asleep. What if there is something else out there? What if he wakes up alone? A tingle of dread starts to form in Geralt’s gut. He turns round swiftly and heads back to camp. He is probably worrying over nothing...but he can't shake the feeling of unease.

As he draws closer to their camp he can hear Roach. She is stomping and snorting. The feeling in Geralt’s gut tightens more. Usually Roach is quiet and patient, she only starts to get restless when she is left alone for extended periods or if something has spooked her.

Geralt emerges into the clearing where their camp is set up. It looks mostly like he left it. There is no sign of any kind of attack or fight. But, the bed roll is empty. He looks around. Maybe Jaskier has just gotten up to wash. He said he’d be here in the morning, he said they would talk. He wouldn’t just leave would he? Geralt takes in several long breaths, trying to calm his rising heartbeat. Roach stomps impatiently and pulls at her tether. She seems a bit rattled.

The longer Geralt looks at the camp the more the feeling of dread takes over. All Jaskier’s things are gone: his pack, his bedroll...even his lute. Geralt feels hot and numb. He looks around the camp and sees Jaskier’s tracks from where he had packed up. He follows them, they lead to Roach and then they back away and head off towards the road. It looks like...it looks like he ran. Fuck.

Geralt sinks to his knees the knot of dread breaks and the feeling overwhelms him. Jaskier woke up...and left. He had fucked up. Jaskier didn’t want that with him. Geralt had let the wine carry him away and now Jaskier was gone. Geralt put his hands to his face and rubbed them across his face hard, the sensation distracting him from the turmoil: rejection, longing, disappointment, betrayal, anger at himself...at Jaskier. How could he just leave? He said they would talk. He said he wanted it too. Fuck...it was just the wine. Had the thought of bedding Geralt been so repulsive that he had just ran?

Roach made a strangled noise and stomped the ground again. She was pulling hard against her tether. Geralt got up and turned to her. She was clearly rattled from seeing Jaskier run off like that. He goes over to her and strokes down her neck soothingly. 

“Me too girl...me too. Hush now.” He says to her quietly. She calms momentarily and then butts him with the side of her head, snorting frustratedly. 

“Was it that bad watching him leave?” He asks, not expecting an answer. It was, as always, comforting to talk to her. “He left. He said we would talk...and he just left. After all this time? I never thought he would just leave. Without saying anything. I’m a fool...I should never...Fuck. I can’t believe he just left. Fuck.” He buries his face in Roach’s mane, the familiar warm horsey smell overwhelming him. The comfort of the smell broke something in him and he just breaks, sobbing into Roach. Roach makes a whine like noise and presses into him.

Jaskier was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And next on Horsing Around...we find out what really happened to Jaskier. See you next chapter ^^


	4. Too many legs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fai looks at him curiously, a sadistic glint in their eye. “Your loyalty to the mutant is...interesting.” They pause, long fingers stroking their chin. “Ok, human...I will not enchant your Witcher. But that does not mean you escape consequence.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happening! Horsey nonsense. But, my poor boys...they so sad.

Jaskier wakes up cold and aching. The morning is cold and way too bright. He snuggles further into the bedroll and squeezes his eyes shut. His head feels like soup sloshing around in an old pot. He groans. Why wine? Why must you do this? He lies there for what feels like a long time. Slowly, like forgetting a dream but in reverse, the previous night comes back to him. He had...they had…Fuck. Where was Geralt? He couldn’t help but notice that the bedroll was empty save for himself. He sighs, braces himself and opens his eyes. The world is bright and harsh. He blinks as his eyes and aching head get used to the light.

“Geralt?” He calls out. There is no response. Jaskier starts to feel panic rise from deep in his chest. What if Geralt had woken up and left him? What if he regrets last night? Please don’t let him regret it. Fuck, why was he so stupid? He knew this would happen. This was why he had never pursued the Witcher seriously. He couldn’t lose him...not his best friend.

He gets used to the light enough to take in his surroundings. The camp is much as he remembers leaving it, their things strewn around with all the grace of two wine drunk idiots. Their things. As he takes this in he hears Roach snort from the otherside of the clearing. Roach. Geralt would never leave without Roach. Thank fuck. He must just have gone for a piss or to find food...or something?

Jaskier flops back on the bedroll. His head is spinning, but the nervous energy from thinking Geralt had left refuses to dissipate. He sighs and pulls himself up and slowly redresses himself. The more he moves the more the nervous energy bounces around inside him. Where is Geralt? It’s been quite a while now. He said they would talk in the morning. He said he wanted this...for a long time. Jaskier hoped that meant...well, what he hoped it meant. Gods let it not just have been the wine talking.

No. he wasn’t going to get caught up worrying. The Witcher would return and they would talk. It would be fine. He decides to put his nervous energy into packing his things up. He considers packing Geralt’s too but he was quite particular about his packing and would likely not appreciate the gesture.

Once his things were packed and on his back, he stood restlessly. Where was Geralt? He huffs and goes over to Roach. He strokes her neck gently. She flicks her ears and nudges him with the side of her face.

“Awake I see.” A high yet melodious voice cuts through the quiet rustle of the morning forest.

Jaskier jumps and whirls around, his hand immediately going for the dagger Geralt gave him. Behind him, on the other side of the camp floats an ethereal figure. The vaguely masculine figure has dark curling hair, high cheekbones and deep green eyes. They are dressed in grey gossamer like fabric that twists around their body like moss and spider webs. They looked...Fai.

“I am awake.” Jaskier says carefully. If all the folktales he has heard about the Fai are true then he has to tread and talk carefully.

“Do you know where it is you stand?” The figure asks quietly. There is an edge to their voice. Jaskier can’t quite tell if it's amusement or malice.

“I...er...a clearing in a forest?” Jaskier replies. Keep it vague, he thinks. Less room for trickery.

“Look at your feet, human.” The figure replies. Jaskier looks at his feet. A clump of mushrooms grew near where he stood. What do they have to do with anything? He is about to look back at the figure before a memory of a dark tale surfaces from his memory. He looks further around the clearing. More mushrooms...in a circle. A fairy circle. As his gaze is dragged around the clearing he notices where some of the mushrooms have been distrurbed. Broken and trodden from where himself and Geralt had trampled them when they made camp. Oh fuck.

“We...er...I am sorry. We camped late last night and we didn’t see…” Jaskier stammers. Fear is gripping his chest. Roach nervously stamps behind him, sensing his unease.

“Silence.” The Fai cuts him off. They float closer. “I saw you last night drinking and copulating. Desecrating our circle. Lucky for you that you broke the circle as you entered, otherwise you would be dancing for us until your pathetic bodies wore out.” An unpleasant smile creeped over the sharp features of the Fai.

“Please. Is there anythi…” Jaskier starts.

“Fear not, human. Your deed will not go unpunished.” The Fai interrupts. They are so close now that Jakier could almost reach out and touch them. “I will ensure that you will all suffer an appropriate amount for your thoughtless actions. You will suffer for our entertainment.” At these words the Fai’s lips curled up into a mischievous and cruel smirk. Jaskier could almost swear he could hear distant laughing echoing around the clearing.

“Geralt!” Jaskier shouts. Backing away until he bumps into Roach’s uneasy form.

“Call him as much as you like human. He is being drawn to his own punishment as we speak.” The Fai replies with amusement in their voice. The fear that grips him almost makes him sick. Please not Geralt.

“Please, leave him. It was me who chose this place to camp. It was me that brought the wine. Surely it’s only me who must bear the responsibility and pay the price. Please, just take me...punish me.” Jaskier begs. As long as Geralt is safe.

The Fai looks at him curiously, a sadistic glint in their eye. “Your loyalty to the mutant is...interesting.” They pause, long fingers stroking their chin. “Ok, human...I will not enchant your Witcher. But that does not mean you escape consequence.”

“Oh...ok.” Jaskier stammers. The Fai smiles wickedly.

“You have been oblivious and careless, but you are loyal to your mutant...lets see how good a loyal steed you make, and what a loyal companion his steed makes.” The Fai leans in close and runs one surprisingly cold finger down Jaskier’s cheek. He shivers at the touch, not really taking in the words. He starts to feel cold and dizzy, his eyes begin to close…

-

Jaskier comes to. He feels very strange. Like all his limbs are at weird angles, like he is put together wrong. He opens his eyes, and the world just looks wrong. It’s like he can almost see the full clearing but like it's mostly in his periphery, everything seems to have a yellowish tinge. He tries to focus but he struggles to not get distracted by every small movement around him. He tries to breathe deeply...but even that feels strange. He feels his body start to over balance and he looks down in an attempt to find something to steady himself. All he sees are hooves and legs...too many legs.

He hears a crash and looks up. He sees a figure stumbling. He tries to focus again and recognises the figure...it’s his body. What has happened? He has hooves...his body is over there...has he been switched with Roach? Fuck

He tries to call out to his body, to Roach, but all that leaves his mouth is a strangled whiny. Roach looks unsteady as she looks around, her human eyes wide with confusuion. She tenses her now human body and tries to run. Jaskier watches, pleading for her not to bolt. They need the wait for Geralt. He will know what to do. Roach unsteadily makes to run and crashes forward, face planting the ground. She lies there for a second before trying to run off again, this time on all fours. This is slightly more successful until she hits a tree.

Jaskier cries out again, he tries to move towards her but he stumbles. Four legs is two too many. He tries again and feels a yank on his head. The reins fitted around his head yank him backwards. He is still tied up. He snorts in frustration. Roach has got back up again, unsteady on two legs. The panic in her, his, eyes apparent. She stumbles forward again, this time just letting the forward momentum take her and crashes off into the woods.

Jaskier pulls against the tether. If Roach injures his body of gods forbid kills it...he might be stuck like this forever. He pulls and stomps. The tether holds fast. He stomps and snorts in frustration.

Fuck fuck fuck. Fucking Fai.

He starts trying to pull free again, as he does Geralt emerges from the forest. Oh thank fuck. Geralt will know what to do. He turns to Geralt and tries to speak but all that comes out is another helpless whiny. He can't talk. He’s a horse. Fuck. Geralt looks around. He seems agitated, panicked even, he takes several long breaths. Jaskier stomps, trying to get his attention.

_Come on Geralt, look at me. I’m not Roach, It’s me. Come one...just look at me...I make a terrible horse._

Geralt doesn’t look at Jaskier. He starts looking round the camp, a pained expression on his face. What is he doing? He looks through their things...wait just Geralt’s things. Jaskier feels a cold flush of panic. He packed up his stuff. Roach has run off...with his things. So now...it looks like...Oh fuck. Geralt is looking at his tracks as he backed away from the Fai, and then where Roach had run. Gods...it looked like he had packed his stuff and run. Geralt makes a pained noise and sinks to his knees, rubbing his hands over his face.

_No, no, no, Geralt. I’m here. I’m a horse. Look at me please. I’m here._

Jaskier makes a strangled noise of pain and stomps. Geralt gets up and turns to him, he looks at him with a painfully sad look on his face. He comes over and strokes gently down his neck. The feeling is indescribably good. Jaskier loses his train of thought for several seconds as Geralt continues to run his hand soothingly down his neck.

“Me too girl...me too. Hush now.” Geralt says quietly. Jaskier breaks out of his stupour and butts Geralt with his head and snorts.

_Come on Geralt. We need to find Roach and my body before we end up stuck like this. It was the fucking fairies. Please..._

“Was it that bad watching him leave?” Geralt says, his voice small and hollow. “He left. He said we would talk...and he just left. After all this time? I never thought he would just leave. Without saying anything. I’m a fool...I should never...Fuck. I can’t believe he just left. Fuck.”

Jaskier’s heart clenched. He had wanted Geralt for so long, and finally..they had. Now Geralt thinks he’s abandoned him. Seeing Geralt like this tore at him.

_I didn’t leave. I am still here. I love you. I’ve loved you for years. I would never leave. Not after all this time. Geralt...Fuck...I wish you could hear me._

Geralt buries his face in Jaskier’s, Roach’s, mane. Jaskier could feel him start to shake and a dampness where his face was buried. Was Geralt crying? Actually crying?

_Oh Geralt. I...I just wish you could see._

Jaskier makes a pained whine. All he can do is give the small amount of comfort he can with his new horse body. He leans into Geralt. It’s the closest he can get to a hug. They have to find Roach and his body. They have to find a way to change them back. They just have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tv announcer voice* Next time on Horsing around...we see what happened to our favourite horse. Where is Roach?


	5. Hoofing it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roach comes to. She feels very strange. She is at an odd angle, balanced upright. She opens her eyes and immediately shuts them again. Has she lost an eye? The world seems narrow and too brightly, weirdly coloured. She opens them again slowly. She can only see ahead, everything for some reason is in vivid colours, some that she doesn’t even recognise. What the fuck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Roach POV. Yes. This was so much fun to write. So excited to build up her character.

Roach watches the strange floating two legs. She doesn’t like the way it smells, like earth and mischief. The floating two legs was getting closer. Roach did not like this. Loud Mouth smells of fear. He cries out for White Mane and backs away from the floating two legs. He backs up into Roach’s side, she huffs nervously, ears back. This two legs felt like a threat. Where was White Mane? He would know how to get rid of the floating two legs. If only she weren't tethered, she stamps nervously. The floating two legs strokes Loud Mouth’s face. She starts to feel cold and dizzy. She closes her eyes.

-

Roach comes to. She feels very strange. She is at an odd angle, balanced upright. She opens her eyes and immediately shuts them again. Has she lost an eye? The world seems narrow and too brightly, weirdly coloured. She opens them again slowly. She can only see ahead, everything for some reason is in vivid colours, some that she doesn’t even recognise. What the fuck?

Panic rises. She has to get away, that floating two legs has done something. All her mind can do is scream Danger! and Run! She tries to run but for some reason she is only on two legs. She crashes forward and falls face first. She doesn’t normally fall like that. Her body feels wrong and at odd angles. She scrabbles up and looks down. Those. Those are not hooves. Those are hands. 

She hears a whiny. But no time to look, she needs to get out she needs to run, run from whatever the fuck this is. She tries to run this time properly using all of her limbs, but this weird body doesn’t seem to work this way. She manages a few lurching steps before she hits a tree. Fuck. That hurt. She hears another panicked whiny. Her panic rises, she wants to get away. She knows there is danger. She must run.

She relents and tries standing on her new back legs. It feels unsteady but better than trying to run on all fours. She puts one foot forward and lets the feeling of falling carry her forward in a stumbling two legged run. Finally, she can get away.

The forest seems to lurch and crash around her. These uneven limbs and the weird balance of this body is disorientating. But there is no time to take it in. She has to run. Has to get away from the danger. She keeps going. The longer she runs the easier it becomes. She no longer feels like she is perpetually falling. This body hurts. Everything feels like it’s on fire. She can feel her hot breath huffing out her mouth. She never normally tires this quickly. She starts to slow.

She still feels very unsteady. She stops panting. Now letting herself take in what’s around her. Her vision still feels too narrow and intensely colourful. She looks around her. She can’t see all around her at once and it makes her feel uneasy. What if something were trying to sneak up on her? She tries to calm herself and listen to the forest. Her ears feel stiff against her head. She stills and tries to listen. She can hear but it sounds odd, weirdly tinny and she cant seem to pinpoint sounds. It’s like everything is dulled but loud at the same time. She tried huffing the air but it was like her nose too was dulled. She could barely smell the slightest hints of scents.

She looks down at herself. The strange hands. She moves the fingers. It feels so strange. She then takes in the rest of herself. She has the body of a two legs. She was covered in the rich smelling coverings often worn by two legs. These coverings were a garish and a shade of blue so intense Roach wasn’t sure she had seen it before. She was saddled with bags on her back. The weight pulled in a strange way on this body.

She could feel panic begin to rise again. Where was the herd? She couldn’t smell them, she could barely even smell. She misses White Mane desperately. She would even feel safer if Loud Mouth was here. She looks around her again. No sign of either of them. White Mane would find her right? He always seemed to find her. Then he would brush her and nicker his two leg nonsense to her. She wishes he was here.

She looks around her again, she is in a slightly more open part of the forest. The trees around her are mostly Ash. There is a large Ash coppice that has sprouted a dense wall of trunks just behind her. She backs into that, at least then nothing can easily sneak up on her. 

She stares forward. Trying to take in as much as she can. Panic is still simmering just beneath the surface. Maybe if she just stays here the herd will find her. She stays there listening and watching for a large part of the day. Aside from the odd noise of a bird or rustle of some small rodent she hears and sees nothing.

Her stomach starts to growl. She is also thirsty. She will have to look for food. She takes a deep breath. She has not smelt, seen or heard danger since this morning. Maybe it’s safe enough? She rises unsteadily on her back legs and starts to take hesitant steps around the coppice. This walking on two legs thing is just weird. Spending so much time thinking of balance when four legs means you can run faster and fall over less. Two legs are stupid.

She keeps up her unsteady path. The forest is thinning a bit. As the afternoon began and the shadows started to lengthen, she heard a welcome noise. Water. She races unsteadily towards the noise. A small brook of clear water from the mountains. She was so thirsty. She gets on all fours and lowers her head to drink. She tries to drink but with this short face and awkward nose every time she drinks she ends up with water up her nose. How did two legs do anything? Eventually she ends up awkwardly sinking her chin into the water while keeping her nose lifted. It was inefficient but at least the water didn’t go up her nose. Once she had drunk her fill she looked around. In the distance she could see something. Was that a road? She hoped so.

She walks unsteadily towards the road. She vaguely remembers this road from a few days before. Hopefully White Mane and Loud Mouth would find her if she stayed near it. She looks around her and snuffs the air. It was faint and muted but she could smell something, something delicious. She moves towards the smell until she finds what she was hoping for: wild garlic. Happily she sinks to the floor. She grabs at the long green leaves with her mouth. Delicious. She munches happily for a long time. At least she wasn’t hungry anymore. Eating after everything felt soothing. The sweet pungent taste of the leaves was a little different to how she remembered but it was pleasant nonetheless. She hums happily to herself. 

Over the sounds of her own munching she hears something. Was that the sound of footsteps? A two legs and a horse? She looks up, still chewing the wild garlic. These useless ears wouldn’t let her pinpoint the direction. She swivels her head to keep her surroundings in sight. Round the corner up ahead she sees shadows before she sees the figures. She would know that silhouette anywhere. It was White Mane.

White Mane. The herd, her herd. Relief floods her whole body. Roach stumbles awkwardly to her feet, some wild garlic still hanging from her mouth. White mane stops, he looks angry...upset maybe? She didn’t mean to get lost. She lurches awkwardly towards him, nickering her usual greeting. It sounds odd coming out of this forign throat. She goes right up to him and butts his shoulder with the side of her face. She takes in a big huff of his scent. The smell is the same, just very muted. Still White Mane’s scent though. He flinches away from her. That’s odd. Why would he do that?

At this moment she looks up and realises there is another horse behind Geralt. Another horse. Why would he have another horse? She looks up and takes in the other horse. There is something very familiar about her. She keeps looking her over. She moves past Geralt and gives her a nose butt and tries to take in her scent. She smells familiar too. Very familiar. Wait. Where is Loud Mouth?

She looks down at herself again. Something falls into place. The two leg coverings...that intense blue...was she in Loud Mouth’s body? Did that mean Loud Mouth was in hers? She studied the body more carefully, that was definitely her body. She knew those hooves anywhere. 

She moved closer and pressed her forehead and nose to her old body. As if that would somehow change them back. Loud Mouth pressed back as though he understood. That strange floating two legs...this must be their doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are back to Geralt for the next chapter. Thanks so much for all your comments. They make me very happy ^^


	6. What's wrong girl?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s wrong girl?” He strokes her nose gently. She snorts and jerks her head to where Jaskier’s tracks lead. “I know. But I think we need to get you to the town and get you checked over. I wonder if you’ve eaten something off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt...he gets so close to figuring stuff out...but himbo gotta himbo.
> 
> So enjoying writing the horsey nonsense, and I haven't even really dug into it yet. Mapped out the fic yesterday and I think it will be around 24 chapters.

Geralt pulls himself together. He can’t break down so easily because of the bard. He splashes water on his face and slowly begins to pack up his things. He feels heavy and numb as he goes about this familiar task. It’s like his mind just turns off. His body feels heavy, his stomach feels mildly nauseous and his fingers almost tingle with how numb they feel. Without really registering it he is packed up. He needs to leave.

He feels almost frozen to the spot. He looks around the clearing. When he leaves, that’s it, everything will be real. They will have...and Jaskier will have left...will have run away. Roach makes a sad sounding snort and stamps impatiently. She has been very off today Geralt realises. 

He goes over to her. She instantly rubs the side of her face against him. She stamps again and pulls at her tether. Geralt starts to tack her up, but this seems to spook her and she stumbles awkwardly. Concern starts to grip him. He checks her over thoroughly. He finds nothing physical, but she isn't moving the way she normally would. She seems clumsy. He checks over her face and looks into her eyes. They are not quite right. Something about them seems off. 

“What’s wrong girl?” He strokes her nose gently. She snorts and jerks her head to where Jaskier’s tracks lead. “I know. But I think we need to get you to the town and get you checked over. I wonder if you’ve eaten something off.”

Geralt carefully attaches her saddlebags and brings the tether to the front so he can lead her. She clearly is in no state to be ridden. He pulls gently to encourage her to follow him. She tentatively puts one hoof forward. This is so unlike her. She stumbles but regains her balance pretty quickly. Unsteadily she begins to walk after Geralt. He is really concerned now. Something must be really wrong.

Slowly they make their way towards the road. It takes most of the day, Roach seems to find walking easier the longer they go on. Geralt keeps a close eye on her and gives her encouraging pats to the neck every so often.

They reach the road in late afternoon. Geralt walks them down it towards the town. Roach is walking better but still seems off. Like she was in low spirits. He decides to walk beside her and keep a hand in her mane. This seems to comfort her.

They come to a bend in the road just as the afternoon is starting to shift towards evening. Geralt can hear something rustling on the road ahead. It was likely a deer or another traveller, but he braces himself just the same. Danger was often where you least expected. As they round the corner Geralt can see the silhouette of a figure sat at the side of the road. Were they chewing leaves from the hedge? As he approaches, he feels like his stomach almost falls out his ass. He knew that figure. Jaskier.

Jaskier was staring straight at him. Fuck, what was he supposed to do now? What was Jaskier even doing here? At the side of the road...eating leaves? Before he could really get his head around what he was seeing, Jaskier jumped up unsteadily. He ran at Geralt like a baby deer that had only recently learnt to walk. He makes a weird noise, like a gurgled growl. He comes right up to Geralt and butts his shoulder with the side of his face. This was so not what Geralt was expecting, he just flinches away. Shock taking what few words he might have had from him.

Jaskier takes a big huff like he's scenting Geralt and turns and looks at Roach. He seems utterly distracted by her. What the hell is he doing? He ran away. Why the fuck was he here? Why the fuck wasn’t he talking? Jaskier walks over to Roach and rubs his face on hers. What the fuck? 

He marches over to Jaskier. He yanks him round by the shoulders and looks him dead in the eyes.

“What the hell are you doing? You left. You said we would talk and you left.” Geralt almost shouts.

Jaskier looks dazed. He stares back at Geralt like he doesn’t understand a word he’s saying.

“Answer me.” Geralt barks, almost shaking him. Jaskier just stares back and makes a weird cough gurgling sound. His frustration and anger quickly turns to alertness. Was this even Jaskier? He looks into Jaskier’s deep blue eyes closely. They seemed like his...but off.

He drops Jaskier and he almost collapses onto the floor. He looks scared but in a way he has never seen on the bard. Something wasn’t right. A doppler? He quickly draws his silver sword and presses the tip against Jaskier’s cheek. Jaskier’s eyes bulge in fear and he starts making a panicked squeaking noise. He scrabbles backwards and almost hides in between Roach’s legs. Roach snorts defensively at Geralt. Ok, so not a doppler then. Something was off though. Had the bard gone mad? Hit his head? Been cursed… He crouches down and reaches a hand out to him.

“Come on, let me look at you.” he says softly. Jaskier still looks at him with fear in his eyes. Roach, surprisingly, nudges Jaskier forwards. Jaskier slowly moves towards Geralt. Clearly unsure. Geralt remains still, like he would if he were dealing with a wild animal. ONce Jaskier is close enough. He places a tentative hand on Jaskier’s arm. Jaskier flinches but allows the contact. Very slowly and carefully he checks Jaskier over for injuries, muttering soothingly as he goes. The bard is dirty and has clearly fallen over many times. His clothes ripped in places and in poor condition considering how the bard usually kept himself. There are no injuries though. He stinks of wild garlic, was that what he was eating at the side of the road? He still has his pack and his lute, but both seem to have been bashed around. Something Geralt knows Jaskier would never allow to happen willingly. Something must have happened. Was he attacked? There were no obvious injuries or blood. He checks the bard’s head thoroughly. No injuries. Mad or cursed then?

He looks at Jaskier. It hurt to be this close to him after...after he left. Part of him was glad to see the bard, but another part of him was fuming that he was once again having to clean up after him especially after he ran away this morning. Why was it he was always having to clean up the bard’s messes? He is not sure how to feel. He is angry. He is sad. Both with himself and Jaskier. He is worried. What if this was something he couldn’t fix? Another deeply buried part of him was just glad to be near him once more…even after this morning.

Geralt pulls Jaskier to his feet. He is very unsteady, like he isn't used to walking. Geralt helps dust him down and takes off his pack and lute. He shoulders the pack and tucks the bard’s lute safely in one of Roach’s saddle bags. Guess both Jaskier and Roach need a look over. 

Jaskier goes immediately to Roach’s side and nuzzles her. Geralt picks up the tether and sighs. To the town they must go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TV announcer voice* Next time on Horsing Around. What will happen when they reach the town? How will Jaskier cope in the stables? Find out next on Horsing Around.
> 
> Seriously though your comments are amazing! Really appreciate them, certainly give me loads of motivation to write.


	7. Unstable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of all the things Jaskier longed to learn in his life, learning to walk on four legs was not one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a little longer...well because it is a little longer. Hope you enjoy!

Of all the things Jaskier longed to learn in his life, learning to walk on four legs was not one of them. It felt so alien, but as the day started to close he had started to get it. Everything about today was just a tortuous mess. He may have lost his body for ever, Geralt thought he had abandoned him and he was stuck in the body of a horse he was certainly not qualified to operate. Everything was so loud and smelt so strongly, his new eyes could see so far around him and picked up on every movement. He felt constantly on edge. If horses could cry he would surely be crying. The only thing helping him not just flop down on the floor was Geralt’s reassuring hand in his mane.

They came towards a bend in the road. Jaskier could hear something ahead. His new very mobile ears turn towards the sound. It sounds like somebody eating. He huffs the air, he can smell something familiar, was that garlic? He can feel Geralt tense next to him. He must sense it too. Is this what it’s like to have a Witcher’s heightened senses? Well, honestly it’s exhausting. No wonder Geralt is always so grumpy.

They rounded the corner and there was his body, chewing on leaves at the side of the road. A wave of pure relief floods Jaskier, until he feels Geralt tense beside him. Shit...how was this going to play out?

He watches nervously as Roach, in his body, runs straight towards them and nuzzles Geralt. Geralt flinches away. Clearly confused as to why the man who ran away from him this morning would now run to him and nuzzle him of all things. Roach soon catches sight of Jaskier, of her body, she freezes. She looks both confused and fascinated. Would she even understand that this was her body? Jaskier has no idea. How clever are horses?

She comes right up to Jaskier, taking him and her old body in. She noses at Jaskier’s nose. It feels like a greeting. As she takes him in her eyes widen as she looks at his front hooves. She looks back up and looks in Jaskier’s horse eyes and a flash of understanding comes across her face. She presses her forehead into his face as if to acknowledge her understanding. Another wave of sweet relief floods Jaskier. She is a clever girl, thank the gods.

All of a sudden Geralt yanks her away from him. He holds her by the shoulders and shouts in her face.

“What the hell are you doing? You left. You said we would talk and you left.” Roach looks back at him clearly not understanding a word. “Answer me.” Geralt barks, almost shaking her. Roach makes a terrified noise, clearly not understanding why her beloved Geralt would do this. The relief that had washed over him a few seconds before promptly disappears. Was Geralt going to mess everything up? Fuck, how could either of them explain?

Geralt freezes and drops Roach to the floor. She looks terrified, an acid smell drifts into Jaskier’s nostrils. Was that fear? Did fear have a smell? Geralt had mentioned that it might.

Geralt draws his silver sword and touches it to Roach’s cheek. She panics, clearly not used to Geralt turning his Witcher fury on her, with a squeak she scrambles backwards between Jaskier’s legs. Jaskier lowers his head and snorts a warning at Geralt. Hopefully he will understand. Please gods let him understand.

Geralt stops, clearly realising Roach isn’t a threat. His face softens and he crouches down so he is on a level with Roach.

“Come on, let me look at you.” he says softly. Roach is still terrified, Jaskier can smell it. He thinks Geralt has started to get it, so he nudges Roach towards him. Geralt has the soft look on his face he often has when talking to Roach, or any other animal. Roach moves cautiously closer to Geralt.

Geralt places an achingly tender hand on Roach’s arm. Roach flinches but allows the contact. Geralt proceeds to check her over. Jaskier notices how dirty she is, there is dirt all over his clothes. Jaskier took in a deep breath, how was his lute? He can see Geralt check it over, concen written across his face. It looks in one piece, if a little scuffed. Jaskier sighs internally. At least it wasn’t broken. Geralt checks her, his, head thoroughly. Jaskier guesses that it probably did look to him like Jaskier had hit his head.

Geralt sighs heavily, a sad weight apparent in his posture. He pulls Roach to her feet and shoulders her pack. He turns towards Jaskier and stows his lute in the saddle bags. He sighs again and picks up the tether. Roach immediately appears at Jaskier’s side and nuzzles him. That could have gone worse, Jaskier muses. At least they were all together. Hopefully they could figure this out.

-

They reach the town just as dusk was truly setting in. Thankfully it was a large enough town to have an inn. Geralt leads them around to the stables, Roach darts in first and almost instantly sticks her whole face in a trough and drinks. Geralt looks on in confusion and then yanks her back out by her collar.

“What are you doing?” he asks. Roach snorts and shakes her head in response. Geralt holds her and looks at her for a long moment before sighing and returning to Jaskier. He makes short work of the saddlebags and leads Jaskier to a stall. Jaskier hadn’t thought this far ahead. He would have to stay in the stable? Like, like a horse? Could this get any worse? He huffs and stamps. Geralt leads him back around to the entrance to the stall. He strokes down Jaskier’s neck and removes the halter and tether.

“I’ll be back soon. Got to make sure the bard stays out of trouble.” At that there is a crash from outside the stall. “Fuck.” Geralt curses under his breath, and with that he closes the stall door and Jaskier is left alone in the stables.

He sticks his head over the stall and strains to see as much as possible. He can only just see out of the stable, Geralt is well out of sight. He looks around the stable. There is only one other horse here, a sable mare down the end of the opposite set of stalls. She nickers what Jaskier can only assume is a greeting. He tries his best to do an imitation of the noise. Just because he is a horse doesn’t mean he has lost his manners. The noise that comes out starts out well but ends on a weird gurgle. The other horse looks confused. She huffs and turns away. Well...he tried.

Now Jaskier was just bored. There was nothing to do stuck in the stall. After pacing about, at least as much as he was able to in the stall, he realised just how hungry and thirsty he was. There was a through of water in the stall. Gingerly he lowers his head and tries to drink. This face is way too long. He ends up slurping a lot before he gets the hang of it. Stupid horse body.

After a bit more pacing he hears a noise. His ears immediately flick up. He is never going to get used to how mobile they are. It sounds like footsteps coming towards the stable. He hurries over to the stall door and leans over it as far as it will let him. By gods he hopes it's Geralt. He is so bored...and really after the day he's had he just wants to be near him.

To his excitement it is Geralt. He looks tired and sad. He comes up to the stall and his mouth twitches up in Geralt’s version of a soft smile. Jaskier butts him gently, there isn't much else he can do. Geralt strokes down his nose, which feels way better than it has any right to.

Geralt begins to busy himself, getting ready to tend to his horse. Firstly, he sorts a bucket of food, mostly hay and oats. Then, he opens the stall and starts checking him over. His hands are achingly gentle. He checks over his legs, even picking up each hoof to check it for stones. Jaskier lets him work, watching longingly. There was something about seeing Geralt like this that was strange. He never normally hung around when Geralt was taking care of Roach, and if he did he mostly talked Geralt’s ear off. This was a side of him he rarely saw, careful, methodical...almost peacefully absorbed in his work.

Geralt gets out his brushes and starts To brush him. He uses a round brush in a circular motion, getting all the dust and mud out of his coat. It feels fantastic. Jaskier was concentrating before Geralt actually started to brush him. Fuck, this was most heavenly. He drifts off, lost in the sensation.

“Stupid bard...stupid fucking bard.” Geralt mumbles. Jaskier jerks up out of his brush induced stupor. Only remembering afterwards he was not currently the bard.

“Getting himself in trouble and expecting me to pick up all the damn pieces. Especially after...after last night.” Geralt huffs and goes quiet again, a damp sort of smell emanating from him...was that what sadness smelled like? Like a strange mix of the smell before it rains and the dank smell of old abandoned cellars. Jaskier sighs. He wishes he could speak...explain everything. It was frustrating that Geralt had jumped to such conclusions. If the brushing didn’t feel so good he would have head butted Geralt by now.

“I just...I’m just worried Roach. I don’t know what's wrong...he seems completely insane. Like someone has completely messed with his head. He can’t speak...he cant seem to walk straight or eat properly. Whatever trouble he walked into certainly did a number on him.” Geralt changes brushes to one with long stiff bristles, he usess long quick downward strokes. Gods that had no right to feel so good. He almost blissed out so much that he stopped listening to Geralt.

“I’m...I’m worried. What if...what if I can’t fix it? What if he's stuck this way?” He sighs deeply and presses his forehead into Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier leans into him, his best attempt at comfort in this body.

“What if I never get to talk to him about...about last night? What if I never get to tell him how I feel?” Jaskier butts him again.

_I mean, you can tell me you great big idiot. I’m right here._

Geralt sighs sadly and gets out a much softer brush and begins brushing Jaskier in small soft strokes. Gods that was blissful. Who knew Roach had it so good with all the brushing? Jaskier forces himself to concentrate on Geralt. He gives what he hopes is an encouraging nickering noise, at least his closest approximation.

“When I first met him he was so young. It would have been...inappropriate. By the time he wasn’t so young...and I realised...well he was my friend. I didn’t want to lose that. And now...it’s… I fucked it up. He ran away from me. I made him run. I just...I just want him to be ok.” Geralt’s whole posture slumps. Jaskier can smell that damp smell coming off him in waves. He leans more fully into him and Geralt leans back, clearly taking some comfort.

_I never ran from you. Never would run from you. You didn’t fuck anything up...Gods I wish you could hear me. I just want you to be ok._

They stay that way for a while, until Geralt takes in a deep breath and draws himself back up. He runs his hand down Jaskier’s neck and looks into his horse eyes.

“You seem better than this morning. I’m still getting the farrier to check you over tomorrow.”

Yeah? And can he diagnose a bard trapped in a horse?

Jaskier snorts at his own attempt at making light of the situation. If he didn’t laugh he would cry. Geralt pats his flank and leaves the stall. Jaskier is alone again.

He wanders over to the bucket of ‘food’ Geralt had left. He was so hungry, but the idea of eating raw oats and hay was less than appealing. Here goes nothing, he thinks and bends down and takes a big mouthful of hay. It is sweeter than he imagines. It takes a lot of chewing, but that actually feels good in this mouth. Without realising he has bent down and taken another mouthful. This time it’s the oats. Gods who knew raw oats could taste this good. He gets lost in chewing, the action feeling almost soothing.

“Enjoying your oats pretty pony?” A familiar melodious voice rings mockingly from the other side of the stall. Jaskier jumps, his horse senses going haywire. Every muscle in his body shouted Danger! and Run! Gods no wonder horses spooked so easy. Before Jaskier could regain control of himself, his horse body had tried to move off and smashed awkwardly into the side of the stall. The Fai bursts into laughter, it was high and tinkling which felt at odds with the malicious smirk on their face. They are perched rakishly on the wall of the stall, their eyes glinting with mirth.

“Oh bard, this whole situation is hilarious. He thinks you ran away...and here you are right by his side as noble steed.” The Fai wipes a tear of laughter from one eye and floats down towards him. “And isn’t the horse just hysterical running around in your body. If I had known cursing humans could be this much fun...I would have done this as soon as you entered my woods.” The Fai ran a cold finger along Jaskier’s face. Jaskier flinches away.

“All that and then you run into a wall. Are you trying to kill me with mirth?” The Fai sighs, the shakes of laughter finally calming.

 _Fuck you. Fuck the Fai, Fuck your fucking circle. Fuck all of your kind for doing this to him. To me...to us_.

“Don’t think too loud, pony boy. I might just decide to curse your mutant too.” The Fai smirks as Jaskier flinches again. They float up and fade unnervingly into the background, keeping their mirth filled eyes on Jaskier. Jaskier feels his anger flare. He was going to get them out of this one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Horsing around... Geralt takes Jaskier to a healer.
> 
> Thanks for all your lovely comments. I enjoy reading all of them ^^


	8. For the love of apples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being in the town of two legs in one of their bodies is strange. She feels short and small. She keeps close to Loud Mouth as they wander down the twisty streets. Normally these places smell vibrant, full of the scent of two legs, horses and food. All of it coming together into a swirl of scent that gives the place a tone, an atmosphere. Her two leg nose gives her hints of this, like only the strongest scents seem to register. Roach finds it unnerving. The eyes though, never has she seen such colour, this vision is so sharp and intense. It has a definite beauty to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love human Roach so much. She takes a bit of time to write but she is just a joy.

Being in the town of two legs in one of their bodies is strange. She feels short and small. She keeps close to Loud Mouth as they wander down the twisty streets. Normally these places smell vibrant, full of the scent of two legs, horses and food. All of it coming together into a swirl of scent that gives the place a tone, an atmosphere. Her two leg nose gives her hints of this, like only the strongest scents seem to register. Roach finds it unnerving. The eyes though, never has she seen such colour, this vision is so sharp and intense. It has a definite beauty to it.

She was quite aware that White Mane still thought she was the bard. She was not sure how to change that. Loud Mouth had no words, she had no words. A problem indeed. Eventually they reach the stables. She is so thirsty and tired that she immediately goes for a drink. White Mane rudely yanks her back. Of course, two legs don’t drink that way. She huffs, she feels out of place in this body, in this place. She watches as White Mane puts Loud Mouth in a stall for the night. She sighs, longing for the safety of a cosy stall, the smell of hay, oats and other horses as a constant comfort. She doesn’t know how two legs sleep when in towns. 

She begins to look around the small yard outside the stable. There was a feed bucket hanging on the wall. She is starving, the wild garlic hadn’t sated her hunger like it normally would. She still wasn’t used to having hands, they seem way too flexible and complicated. But maybe it was time to see what they could do, two legs seemed to like grabbing stuff with them. She reached a hand out tentatively and grabbed at the bucket. This is really strange, the fingertips are so sensitive. Experimentally she grips it harder, it seems fine. She lifts it and the bucket tips unexpectedly and slides out of her grasp and falls to the floor with a loud clatter. She jumps and bolts to the other side of the yard, heart beating wildly. How on earth do two legs do anything? 

White Mane dashes out of the stable and looks around worriedly. He takes in the feed bucket and Roach and looks at Roach with a mixture of confusion and exasperation. He mutters something and takes Roach gently by the arm and leads her inside. 

Two legs stables are strange on the inside. Roach has never really been inside them. Looked in sometimes, but never actually been inside. There is just so much stuff inside them. She looks around dazedly as White Mane practically drags her towards another two legs standing behind some kind of stall. They exchange words while she gazes around, fascinated by the sheer amount of stuff to look at. Even to her dulled senses there is a lot going on in here. There are a lot of people all around, all of them smell of that fermented liquid two legs like to drink so they can fall over and shout a lot. There are some delicious food type smells as well as the overpowering stench of overly warm two legs. Quite a few of the two legs are staring at her and White Mane. Roach doesn’t like it. She turns her gaze back to White Mane. He looks tired.

He turns away from the two legs behind the stall, and pulls Roach towards some steps near the door. Roach has not walked up steps much on four legs often, let alone two. She tries to keep up with White Mane but trips over herself about four steps up. She bashes her shin and lurches over. She only doesn’t bang her face on the steps because White Mane is holding her up. She looks up at him and sees a mixture of concern and frustration on his face.

White Mane practically hauls Roach up the remaining steps. He pulls her along to a door down the corridor. Beyond the door is what Roach presumes is a two legs stall. It has a lot of things in it, most of which she does not recognise. But it has a fire and pleasant smell. Roach flops on the floor exhausted from the day. White Mane huffs and busies himself in the room as Roach rolls on the floor in front of the fire.

After a while he walks up to Roach and stands over her. She looks up at him. He looks sad. He says something in two legs speak, Roach almost thinks she can understand it. Something in her mind recognises the word ‘eat’. She sits up and White Mane helps her back up. There is food on the small table: bread, cheese...and an apple. White Mane sits in one of the chairs and begins to eat. Roach follows suit, trying her best to imitate him. She reaches for some bread with the hands she still isn't used to. She manages to pick it up quite successfully and messily shoves it in her mouth. This wasn’t so hard. How hard is it to be a two legs really?

Without really thinking she lets her hunger take over. It’s been hours since she last ate. She hears a cough from across the table. White Mane is staring at her. Fuck she forgot about her hands. She was bent over her plate eating with just her mouth. She swallows and goes back to using her hands again. White Mane is still staring at her with that odd look on his face. Why doesn’t he try working one of these bodies without the instructions? She huffs back at him. As she does so White Mane reaches for the apple on the table. Roach’s eyes can't help but follow. Apples are truly one of life's great joys. He seems to note her interest and uses a knife to slice the apple into four pieces. He puts two of them on her plate. She shoves them both in her mouth at once, the glorious sweet taste of them almost enough of a tonic to wipe away what had been a truly awful day.

It tastes different to how she remembers. Not bad...just different, kind of muted but with a hum of something very pleasant. She has juice all over her chin by the time she is finished. White Mane is staring at her again. Couldn’t she even eat an apple now? He gets up and brings a rag to her face. He wipes away the juice with all the care and attention he gives her when he is grooming her. She nuzzles into his hand and he jerks away oddly.

Her eyes follow him full of confusion. She thought he liked Loud Mouth? She had seen them touch each other all the time. Why was this any different? White Mane turns away and collects various things from around the room: a basin of water, a clean rag and some of Loud Mouth’s clothes that smell clean. 

He stands in front of her and hesitates. He looks awkward, but sighs and starts unfastening the bards rather dirty clothes and removing them from Roach. The process of being undressed, washed and redressed was not dissimilar to when White Mane grooms her. She hums happily to herself and lets herself drift peacefully as she would in the stable. Once he is done, he gently moves her over to a strange raised platform on one side of the room. He pushes her to sit on it and then stares at her expectantly. How is she supposed to know what to do? Two leg stalls are weird. 

He rolls his eyes again and mumbles something. He pushes her round and encourages her to lie down on the platform. So it was for sleeping. Well sleeping was certainly something she could do. She stretches and wriggles around trying to get comfy. As she did so White Mane turned towards the door. He says something in his gruff voice and leaves, locking the stall after him.

Roach lies on the strange platform, it smells interesting. She pokes at it with her new fingers. It smells and feels familiar. Was that...straw? She picks at it excitedly, she loves chewing on straw. Maybe two legs weren't so bad with their snack beds. She manages to pull some nice clumps of straw out and munches them thoughtfully as she stares at the ceiling. What were her and Loud Mouth going to do?

-

She wakes up to an exasperated noise from White Mane. He was gesturing at the corner of the platform she had pulled some nice straw from. Roach looks back at him, confused. Was that not for eating? Why put it there if it's not for eating? She takes back what she thought about two legs; they are still weird and confusing. 

White Mane huffs and keeps muttering. Roach stretches and gets up. That was a surprisingly good sleep. There is more bread and cheese on the table. She gives White Mane a look and he gestures at it and nods. She shoves the food into her mouth with gusto.

After they have eaten White Mane collects a few things and ushers Roach out the door and back down the stairs. Roach is quite pleased that she manages it without falling this time. White Mane hurries her out the door and into the town. It is still reasonably early, but the town is awake. There are a fair few two legs out going about their business.

Roach is used to being in towns, but as a horse. She is used to being higher up and taking up more space. White Mane strides off in the direction of the market a hand firmly around her wrist. She stumbles after him staring around, taking in her surroundings. They are heading across a small square. There are several wooden stalls each piled high with stuff, most of it food. There are quite a few two legs around the stalls. They look like they are swapping things. Roach stares fascinated, she isn't normally brought to such places. At least not this close. 

They stop in front of a strong smelling stall. It has a lot of odd looking roots, powders and jars. Even with this sorry excuse for a nose she could smell it all very strongly. She backs off slightly as White Mane grunts something and the bald middle aged two legs on the other side. Now they have stopped, she takes the opportunity to have a closer look at the stalls. 

The one behind them is piled high with fruit and vegetables: pungent onions, bunches of brightly coloured carrots, large lush heads of cabbage and ripe sweet smelling beautiful apples. These two leg eyes made them look all the more vibrant than they normally looked. They had taken on one of the hues that was new to Roach. This was far from off putting, Roach’s mouth starts to water. She walks towards them and picks one up between her teeth, the sweet juice from the bite giving her a tantalizing taste of what was to come. 

Just as she was about to start crunching her way through the treat, a two legs from behind the stall starts barking loudly at her. She looks at him confusedly. Did he want some of this one? He comes out from behind the stall and keeps barking at her. Roach isn't sure what to do now. She looks back at White Mane, he is staring at her with a baffled look on his face.

He strides over and barks at the other two legs. They exchange barks and then White Mane flicks a couple of metal bits at him. The barking ceases and he goes back behind the stall. White Mane makes an angry huffing noise and grabs one of Roach’s arms and pulls her away. Before she is pulled away she manages to sneak another apple and sticks it inside her shirt. Loud Mouth will want one too.

White Mane drags her across town until they reach a building that smells of spices, old wood and the barest whiff of magic. White Mane stops outside and looks through the large window; there are heaps of objects piled messily but somehow in a way that begs you look in further. Two legs do own a lot of things. He pulls her inside the building and they both look about them in fascination. There is almost too much stuff to take in. Perhaps there is something in here that will help her and Loud Mouth. She hopes so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next on Horsing around...we are back with poor confused Geralt. Will he find the answers he is looking for?


	9. Why the long face?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Whatever the hell you did to be on the receiving end of this nonsense I hope it was worth it bard.” he mutters darkly. Jaskier looks at him like he has no idea what he is saying. Geralt sighs and takes him gently by the arm and leads him into the inn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very long and hard to write. I want to thank a particular Discord server for cheer leading and doing sprints. You got me through this monster chapter!
> 
> I am introducing an OC in this chapter that is heavily based on a character from one of my DnD games. I want to thank Aurielle for coming up with such an excellent character and letting me borrow her. Also Xie I wrote this just for you....I hope you enjoy!

After he puts Roach in her stall he hears a loud clatter from the yard. What trouble was the bard getting into now? As he emerges into the yard he sees Jaskier is on the opposite side of the yard, frozen in what looks like panic and guilt. Geralt looks around, there is an upturned feed bucket by the door. He puts it back on its hook.

“Whatever the hell you did to be on the receiving end of this nonsense I hope it was worth it bard.” he mutters darkly. Jaskier looks at him like he has no idea what he is saying. Geralt sighs and takes him gently by the arm and leads him into the inn.

He keeps Jaskier close as he goes to the bar to pay for a room. Jaskier is staring around the crowded inn as though he has never been inside one before. After Geralt finishes with the innkeeper he turns and notices several of the patrons staring at him and Jaskier with suspicion. Nothing he isn’t used to, but he has gotten used to the bard easing this part. He is so good with people and words. People just seemed to warm to him easily. When they were together that meant they warmed to Geralt easier too. It was nice not to have to endure the looks and the whispers. His eyes met Jaskier’s, there was clearly recognition there, but not the same recognition he would normally find in bard’s blue eyes. He turns away sadly, pulling Jaskier after him.

They reach the stairs and Jaskier flounders and lurches forward like he has never climbed stairs before. Geralt’s grip on him prevents him bashing his face on a step but not by much. What on earth had happened to him? How could he not even climb stairs? He hauls the bard up the last few stairs and leads him into their room. The bard stares around the room, again looking like he had never seen one before. He looks pleased and flops to the floor in front of the fire like an oversized dog. 

Geralt turns away from him and starts to unpack their things. He is relieved to have something to do to distract him from this hellscape of a situation. His head is swirling with so many feelings: worry, anger, rejection, frustration. He doesn’t know what he is supposed to feel. Eventually he runs out of tasks to do, so sorts them both some food. When he is done he wanders over to Jaskier and clears his throat. Jaskier jumps and looks up at him with a bemused smile.

“We should eat.” He grunts. Jaskier stares back at him, looking like he only half understands what he is saying. He offers Jaskier a hand as he sits up and hauls him to his feet. Geralt sits at the small table in their room.

Geralt sits, Jaskier hesitates and then joins him. He sits awkwardly like the act isn’t natural for him. Geralt pretends to ignore it and begins to eat. This almost feels normal. They eat quietly for a couple of minutes, until Jaskier shoves his face into the plate and starts eating without his hands like a half starved animal. Geralt just stares. What the fuck is he doing? Jaskier catches him staring and looks up almost guiltily and goes back to awkwardly eating with his hands. Geralt reaches out and picks up an apple off the table. Jaskier instantly looks up and watches the apple hungrily. At least it was easy to keep him happy like this. Geralt slices the apple into four and hands two to Jaskier. Jaskier all but pounces on them and shoves them both into his mouth at once. He chews very enthusiastically, juice trickling down his chin. Geralt has never seen Jaskier eat in such an undignified way the whole time he has known him...and he has watched him try and eat a pie after too many ales.

Geralt gets up and gets a rag from the other side of the room. He wipes Jaskier’s chin, all the while he looks up at Geralt adoringly and then nuzzles into his hand. Geralt jerks away like he's been burned. How can he just do that? After...after everything. Geralt forces his swirling emotions down. He looks back at Jaskier. He looks confused and hurt. He didn’t seem to understand anything that was going on. Geralt turns away, trying to find something to busy himself with. 

They would have to get ready for bed. Jaskier’s clothes were covered in dirt. He should probably clean up him before bed. He grabs a basin of water, a clean rag and some clean clothes from Jaskier’s pack. He stands in front of him and hesitates, if he could barely climb the stairs or eat it was unlikely he could wash and dress himself. Jaskier looks up at him with that slightly bemused look he seemed to wear most of the time now. Geralt sighs and gently begins to unfasten his clothes. He keeps getting flashes of the night they spent together, of them undressing drunk and urgent in the fire light. A clash of arousal and sadness in his chest forces him to push these thoughts from his mind. He focuses hard on the task at hand. Trying to think of it like he was taking care of Roach. He gently washes away the dirt and cleans the scrapes on his hands, shins and face. He then redresses him in some clean sleep clothes. Jaskier drifts peacefully during all of this, a relaxed smile on his lips. Geralt then guides him over to the bed in the corner. Jaskier looks up at him with a confused look on his face. He moves Jaskier gently to the bed and pushes him to sit. Geralt looks at him expectantly. Surely this couldn’t be that hard? 

“Do you really not know what a bed is?” He says in exasperation, moving him to lie down. Jaskier seems to get the idea and sprawls out over the bed, nuzzling into the blankets. Geralt turns and goes towards the door picking up his grooming tools. As he gets to the door he looks back at Jaskier. He almost looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“I’m going to see to Roach.” He says, getting barely a hint of recognition from him as he leaves, locking the door behind him. Just to be safe.

He heads down to the stables. He was almost relieved to be out of Jaskier’s presence; his feelings were so conflicted. Now, at least, he could lose himself in a familiar task. Roach was always good to talk to. 

As he enters the stable he could see Roach’s familiar face leaning over the stall door, clearly eager to see him. He already felt better, he went to greet her and she butts him gently. He rewards her with some gentle strokes to her nose. He opens the stall and busies himself with the familiar tasks of caring for his stead. He checks her over thoroughly, still not convinced she is fully well after the last day. He can find no obvious injuries or hot patches, her hooves and shoes all look in good repair. He starts to feel a sense of calm descend over him. Everything else was a shit show, but this, this he knew. It was familiar and comforting.

He starts to brush her with the curry brush, meticulously getting all the road dirt and mud out of her coat. As he works his mind starts to process the day and he lets himself just feel it. He was...angry.

“Stupid bard...stupid fucking bard.” He mumbles while continuing to brush Roach. She jumps a little at his voice but settles back down quickly. “Getting himself in trouble and expecting me to pick up all the damn pieces. Especially after...after last night.” He huffs, then lets out a sigh. Whenever he thought of the previous night he felt a horrible tight mix of sadness and hurt in his chest. He wished he knew what happened. What if Jaskier was just stuck like this? What then? What if he never knew what he did to make Jaskier run from him like that? What would he even do if he couldn’t help him? Jaskier couldn’t be on the road for long in this condition. He could barely take care of himself. 

“I just...I’m just worried Roach. I don’t know what's wrong...he seems completely insane. Like someone has completely messed with his head. He can’t speak...he cant seem to walk straight or eat properly. Whatever trouble he walked into certainly did a number on him.” He changes brushes and keeps working with the same meticulous focus. “I’m...I’m worried. What if...what if I can’t fix it? What if he's stuck this way?” He sighs deeply and presses his forehead into Roach’s neck, she smells familiar and horsey. She leans back into him slightly, clearly offering him the small comfort she could.

“What if I never get to talk to him about...about last night? What if I never get to tell him how I feel?” He mumbles into her neck. She butts him, clearly tired of his dramatics.

He sighs and reluctantly pushes himself back up and gets the softest brush. Roach makes an odd sort of nickering noise. Not quite like her useful pleased nicker. He decides to keep talking to her, it's not like he had anyone else to talk to about this.

“When I first met him he was so young. It would have been...inappropriate. By the time he wasn’t so young...and I realised...well he was my friend. I didn’t want to lose that. And now...it’s… I fucked it up. He ran away from me. I made him run. I just...I just want him to be ok.” He feels himself sag, the full weight of the sadness and rejection making him feel unusually small. Roach leans into him, clearly sensing his need for her presence. He leans back gratefully. He just stays there for a while enjoying the closeness and her familiar smell. Eventually he straightens up, strokes down her neck and looks her in the eye.

“You seem better than this morning. I’m still getting the farrier to check you over tomorrow.”

Roach snorts in return, clearly not impressed. He gives her a comforting pat on the flank before leaving to finally get some rest.

He climbs back up the stairs slowly. Once he reaches their room he takes some blankets and a pillow and curls up next to the dying fire, leaving the bed to Jaskier.

-

The morning comes bright and harsh and Geralt wakes stiff and aching from sleeping on the floor. He sits up and tries to stretch out his stiff aching muscles. He gets up and begins preparing for the day. He heads downstairs, arranging for a farrier to see to Roach and getting more bread and cheese for breakfast. Today they must find a healer.

He heads back to the room and sets out their breakfast on the small table. He goes over to the sleeping bard to wake him. As he goes to gently nudge his shoulder he notices something. Has...has he been chewing the mattress? There is a whole corner by his mouth where the fabric and straw have been chewed and pulled away. He still has a piece of straw stuck in his teeth.

“What the fuck, bard?” He says in exasperation. This rouses him and he looks up at Geralt in sleepy confusion. “Why in Melitele’s name would you chew the fucking mattress?” Jaskier continues to stare at him in a bemused way. This was pointless. He huffs and turns away, muttering curses as he goes. Jaskier follows him and looks pointedly at the food on the table. Geralt nods and gestures to him to help himself, the bard shoves handfuls of it into his mouth with none of the grace Geralt has come to expect of him.

Once they have eaten, Geralt collects his coin and the things he will need for a trip to the market. It is still early and it's best they see to this before too many people notice the bard’s unusual behaviour. He hurries Jaskier out the door and down the stairs. The bard takes them cautiously but doesn’t fall this time. At least that was better than last night. He takes him by the arm and leads him out into the town.

He takes them straight to the market. He figures this will be the best place to either find or get directions to a healer. As Geralt pulls him through the stalls, Jaskier stares like he has never seen a market up close before. Thankfully there only a few people around, Geralt can probably pass him off as an overly curious traveller. Geralt looks about, then he catches a scent, spicy and medicinal. That would be a good start.

He stops in front of the stall that is the source of the smell. It is a simple herbalist selling ingredients and cures to common illnesses. He looks at the owner of the stall, a balding middle aged man, he had a relaxed posture and friendly eyes. Hopefully he would know of a healer.

“Good morning. I have a complicated ailment that requires a healer. Does this town have one?” He asks, trying to be as polite as his gruff voice would allow.

“Good morning to you sir. This town does not have a healer as such, but if your ailment is complex your best bet will be Maria Gristlefiddle. She has a shop down the way, Gristlefiddle’s, large window full of trinkets.” He indicates the direction and gives Geralt a friendly smile.

“Much appreciated.” Geralt replies and passes the man a coin for his trouble. Just as he is about to turn and grab Jaskier he hears shouting from just behind him. He turns, dread filling him. Jaskier is stood next to a vegetable stand with an apple held in his teeth.

“What in the gods name do you think you are doing? You fucking theif! I should report you straight to the alderman.” The stall owner shouts at Jaskier. Jaskier steps back, a confused look on his face. What the fuck was the bard doing? He strides over and glares at Jaskier.

“Is this thief your companion? Give me a reason I shouldn’t report him!” The vegetable seller all but growls, his face turning a similar shade to his apples.

“Look, he is just a simpleton. He doesn’t understand that he can’t just take.” Geralt barks back. “I will pay you for the apple, just leave him be.” He glares at Jaskier, would the bard never stop causing trouble? 

“You should keep a better eye on him then. Can’t have him just taking whatever he fancies without paying.” The other man spits back. They stare each other down. Geralt pointedly flicks a couple of bits at him and leads Jaskier away with an angry huff. 

He drags Jaskier across the square in the direction indicated by the herbalist. He could feel the eyes of the townsfolk on him. He bristled, this was less than ideal. Eventually they come across a building that smells of spices, old wood and the barest whiff of magic. The shop has a garishly painted sign and a large window displaying a strange array of items. Piled precariously in what looked to be an attempt at a display, were books, glass vials of colourful liquids, maps, metal trinkets and what looks like a stuffed badger. He pushes open the door and pulls Jaskier in after him. The door makes a tinkling sound as it shuts behind them.

The shop is very full. Every available space is stuffed full of the widest array of objects. The towering shelves look almost dangerously full. Geralt wonders if there has ever been an avalanche in here. He firms his grip on Jaskier’s arm, not trusting the bard not to grab the wrong thing and cause some form of structural collapse.

“Hello.” He calls out. He hears some rustling deep within the shop. 

“Just a moment dear.” calls a rich earthy voice, it was the kind of voice owned by a weathered older woman, it must be Maria. Geralt stays where he is holding Jaskier close. He can smell the bard's soft floral scent, it brings with it a wave of sadness. He distracts himself by looking at the shelf in front of them. It is stuffed full oddities: thick glass bottles containing what looks like coloured sand, carved wooden objects depicting animals, people dancing and...one that looked vaguely phallic, piles of papers with odd scribbles on them that were either a forign alphabet or terrible handwriting and a strange selection of dried flowers in haphazard bunches. He was about to poke one out of curiosity, when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Dried Viper’s Bugloss, that will not cure what ails you. Very good for snake bites though” The voice was somehow right behind him. He hadn’t heard her draw closer, was he that distracted? He turns quickly, a bit unnerved by his own inattentiveness. Behind him stood the figure of an old woman. She looked to be tall but her hunched stature meant that she only stood as tall as the bard. She had a wild mane of white wavy hair that was only slightly tamed by the scarves tied around it. Her eyes were bright and keen and seemed to be both all knowing and distant. She wore a dress that was made up of many layers of dyed muslin. Her frame although hunched had a strength to it and her skin despite being obviously old was tanned and tough. She almost radiated vitality, it gave her an air that was both ageless and ancient at the same time.

“Are you Maria Gristlefiddle? The herbalist in the market said she would be our best bet for a complicated ailment?” Geralt asked politely.

“Yes. Do come here White Wolf. I have just the thing for you. Would you like some tea?” She replies, fixing him with a stare that seemed to bare his soul. It made him jump slightly that she knew one of his names without him introducing himself. But that wasn’t entirely unusual. 

“I..uh...was looking for someone to take a look at my…” Geralt stars, he wasn’t here for tea.

“Yes, yes follow me. Let's get you some tea..” she interrupts and bustles back towards the back of the shop before Geralt can protest. He huffs and follows her, keeping Jaskier close. 

She leads them through a maze of perilous shelves piled with all manner of trinkets and oddities. When they reach the back of the shop she directs them towards some chairs. They were likely plush once, but had been scuffed and worn by years of use. She stares at Geralt for a long moment until he rolls his eyes and sits down after guiding Jaskier into one of the chairs.

“I will fetch the tea.” She says excitedly and somehow slips away without a trace. Geralt could hear some muffled noises of pots banging and water being poured. He looks around the seating area impatiently. He just wanted to know what, if anything, he could do to fix the bard. He looked at Jaskier sitting awkwardly in his chair. He was looking around the shop as if it was profoundly unusual. Jaskier’s gaze fell onto a tin box that sat on the table. He reached out for it eagerly, turning it over and over in his hands. He was about to open it when he noticed Geralt’s glare. He put it back on the table guiltily avoiding Geralt’s gaze. At least the bard still understood a glare. That was something.

The minutes pass slowly, Geralt taps his fingers on his knee impatiently. He didn’t even want tea, he just wants to know if this odd woman would help. He tries to listen out for the sounds of her returning with the tea, but the shop has gone oddly silent. He looks around the room again, there is an odd painting on the wall depicting a fight between what looks like an overly large ferret and a goose. He frowns as he looks closer. Who would think to paint such a thing?

“Unusual piece isn't it? Not quite sure what’s going on myself...but then who am I to critique the arts?” Maria’s voice was suddenly just by his shoulder. Geralt flinches, how had she gotten there so quickly and silently? Was his concentration that affected by the event of the past few days? He hopes not. “Here is your tea, my dear.” She places a large earthenware cup full of strong smelling brown liquid in front of Geralt.

“Just for water for you dear. I know drinking from cups is a bit new to you.” She says as she places a cup of water next to Jaskier before settling into the remaining chair. 

“What do you mean?” Geralt grunts. How could Jaskier be new to cups?

“What do I mean? I mean drink your tea.” She replies, seemingly baffled by his question.  
He reluctantly sips at the tea. It tastes strange but not unpleasant, kind of bitter and spicy. Jaskier picks up his cup cautiously and takes a sip. He seems delighted by the action and tries to sip again, unfortunately this time he does so a bit enthusiastically and tips a fair bit of it straight down his front. Geralt sighs and looks back at his own cup. Not that he would let the old woman know it, but the warmth of the cup and the fragrant smell were quite comforting. “So how can I help you?” she asks.

“The bard, my companion, I think he has been struck down by a curse or an ailment. He...seems to have lost his mind.” Geralt says, frowning.

“Well it would be careless to lose ones mind.” She replies, her eyes wide and blinking. Geralt huffs in agitation. This was unhelpful.

“Can you figure out what was done to him?” Geralt asks stiffly. He was starting to get frustrated now.

“Well it’s a bit difficult for me to say dear when you bring me a horse.” she replies, taking a sip of her tea.

“What do you mean a horse?” Geralt asks in confusion.

“Well, a horse is a rather larger creature with four legs and a long face. You ride them. Surely a Witcher must know that.” She says, looking slightly baffled.

“I know what a horse is.” He growls. “Can you help me with the bard, or not?” he forces out in a polite a voice as his deep frustration would let him.

“Without seeing him there is not much I can tell you. Not much he can tell you either, I expect. But I can maybe give you something that will help you see.” She gets up out of her chair and heads into the shop, clearly looking for something. She rummages around on various different shelves, boxes and drawers. Geralt grits his teeth, this was both unhelpful and he was half expecting one of the shelves to collapse under the sheer amount of junk.

After several agonising minutes she jolts upright with a triumphant noise. She pulls a small object out of a drawer. She returns to Geralt and places a river pebble, about the size of a plumb, in his hand. The pebble has a hole in it, clearly smoothed by many decades in the water. Geralt stares at the stone, how in Melitele’s sweet name was this supposed to help? 

“What am I supposed to do with this?” he asks, frowning deeply.

“It will help you see.” She says, nodding sagely and closing his hand over the stone. “No need to thank me or pay me. I am simply happy to help two young lovers.” Geralt stiffens, he doesn’t like that assumption. Also shows what she knows, Jaskier ran from him, that wasn’t love. Geralt had had enough of this now. This woman was clearly nearly as insane as Jaskier had become. Maybe there was something in the water around this town. He would have to go and find Yennefer. As much as it pained him to seek her out, she would know what to do.

“Thank you.” He says through gritted teeth. “We should be going.” He turns and grabs Jaskier by the arm and drags him up. As they make to pass Maria, she softly touches Jaskier’s face and looks pointedly in his eyes.

“Take care of Loud Mouth, he will need you.” She says, and Jaskier...nods in return. Geralt is unnerved by this. Did she mean him when she said Loud Moth? He got called many things but rarely loud. And...Jaskier nodded, that was the most recognition of words he had shown since he found him at the side of the road. He feels uncomfortable..

“Thank you Maria. We must be going.” He grunts and pulls Jaskier after him out of the shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Horsing Around....we return to our favourite bard. How will he manage his first steps into being a Witcher's horse?


	10. A tale of ‘Whoa!’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they are finished with the farrier Geralt leads Jaskier back round to the stables, keeping Roach close just in case. He ties Jaskier in the yard while he fetches their bags and Roach’s tack. Jaskier looks at the tack and starts to panic, he hadn’t thought about this. He was a horse now, of course he would have to be ridden. He stomps his front hooves, his body seems to have too much nervous energy. He doesn’t know how to be a horse. The thought of Geralt riding him is just frankly awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a hell of a chapter to write. It took quite a bit of researching and I am forever grateful to lutes_and_dandelions for the amazing advice and sense checking on all things horse. (Check out her amazing fic Lovely if you want some glorious Horse!Jaskier fluff. https://archiveofourown.org/works/24446344) 
> 
> I also want to thank stfustucky for her cheerleading and a particularly excellent idea that made it into this chapter. 
> 
> Also just generally grateful to the Bards of Geraskier server for all their cheerleading, sprinting and spitballing. You folks are the best. ^^
> 
> This chapter has been one of the main parts of the story I have had in my head from the beginning. I hope you all enjoy!

It was a gloomy dawn and Jaskier was already fed up with this day. He was bored, stuck in the stall with his own thoughts. There is only so much hay he could chew before he just wanted to...he didn’t know what, but something. He desperately wants to know what Geralt and Roach are doing. He feels useless. He paces, as much as one could pace in a stall, huffing every so often. 

As the morning grew light Jaskier could hear the noises of a town waking up. There was some noise in the yard outside. He leaned as far as he could over the stall door to see if he could catch a glimpse of what was going on. He watches as the stable hand starts about his work. Occasionally he sees other people cross the yard, probably patrons or hands that work in the tavern. He goes back to his pacing.

Around mid-morning he hears a familiar sound, Geralt’s gruff voice speaking to the stable hand. Jaskier heads straight to the stable door and hangs over it, huffing impatiently. Geralt smiles at him and walks over. Geralt reaches out the back of his hand and gently bumps Jaskier’s nose in a soft greeting. Jaskier pushes into the contact. He didn’t realise what a comfort it would be to be able to take in Geralt’s scent. The scents around him in this body could be quite overwhelming. Jaskier couldn’t quite think how he would put it into words, if he ever got the chance to use words again. The scents were richer, more detailed. It was like he could instinctively tell more about things from their smell. Geralt smells like safety and home.

“How are you this morning, girl?” he murmurs quietly. He pats the side of Jaskier’s neck, it feels nice. Geralt gets the headcollar from the hook next to the stall. He opens the stall and stands next to Jaskier carding his fingers gently through his mane. 

“The town’s excuse for a healer was next to no help. Gave me a rock...as if that’s somehow going to fix what’s wrong. Not sure she was all there.” Geralt sighs. “Think I am going to have to find Yenn.”

_Yenn! Yes! She will know what to do!_

Jaskeir butts him gently in approval. Geralt stands to his left side and gently slips the headcollar over his head and buckles it securely.

“It’s off to the farrier, hopefully he can figure out what’s going on with you.” Geralt’s voice was tight, Jaskier knew he didn’t like interacting with the townsfolk too much. At best they would overcharge Geralt for their services and at worse they would refuse him entirely and in some cases hiss slurs in his direction. 

_I wonder if he can diagnose a bard trapped in a horse better than the healer could diagnose a horse trapped in a bard?_

Geralt fetches the lead rope and attaches it to the head collar and leads Jaskier out of the stable and into the yard. Roach stands nervously just outside. She immediately comes up to Jaskier and presses her forehead to his muzzle in greeting. It’s strange, he seems to understand her without needing words. 

_*It’s been a hard morning. I’m glad to see you.*_

He nudges her face softly with his nose, huffing gently.

_I’ve been so bored. I am glad to see you too._

She pulls away, her eyes widen and she smiles. She reaches into his doublet and produces an apple. She offers it to Jaskier, a look of triumph on her face. Well isn’t that sweet? She brought him breakfast! He takes the apple without hesitation and crunches into its sweet flesh. He pauses, Melitele’s tits...was this apples from heaven? He does not remember an apple ever tasting this good. He chews it reverently, juice and bits of apple dripping down onto the floor below. 

“Where did you get that? You little shit, after all the trouble you caused in the market!” Geralt stares at Roach in a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. Jaskier butts roach affectionately, he didn’t care where the apple came from.

Geralt growls and grabs her by the arm and keeps her close as he leads Jaskier out of the yard. The farrier is just up the road from the tavern. Geralt leads Jaskier to a hay net along one wall and ties him there. With a pat to his flank he leaves to talk to the farrier. Jaskier stamps a little, he knows it’s a waste of time to be here. He feels a warm presence by his neck and turns his head to see Roach. She reaches out her hand awkwardly and strokes down his neck. Jaskier leans into it, Roach knows what feels nice. After a few minutes she reaches to the hay net and picks at the hay. 

_*You should eat.*_

One of the downsides of this body was the near constant compulsion to eat. He had been ignoring it mostly in his agitation, but Roach did make a compelling point. He starts chewing on the hay thoughtfully. He hears footsteps behind him as Geralt enters with the farrier.

“Let’s take a look then.” the farrier says cheerfully. Jaskier turns his head, the farrier was a large man with dark hair and a large beard. He smelt like fire, metal and horses. Geralt joined Roach at Jaskier’s head. He gave Roach an odd look but patted Jaskier’s neck reassuringly. Jaskier turned back to the hay. He was hungry and he figured he could just let the man get on with his work.

The farrier comes up on his right side. He runs his hands gently from Jaskier’s shoulder down his leg, checking it as he goes. His hands head to Jaskier’s foot and he waits expectantly.

“Come on girl.” he says as he tugs at Jaskier’s foot. What did he want? “She been to a farrier before? She’s not letting me look.”

“She’s been before.” Geralt answers. “Come on, Roach.” he pats Jaskier’s neck again, a look of concern on his face. “She’s fine normally.” Jaskier huffs at that, if he knew what they wanted him to do he would do it. All of a sudden Roach taps his side and pulls his shoulder slightly towards her.

_*Lean so he can lift your hoof.*_

Of course! The farrier wants to look at his shoes. Jaskier shifts his body weight to his other legs and lets the farrier pull up his hoof to inspect it. He takes his time cleaning and inspecting the hoof and shoe. Jaskier barely notices as he has his face buried in the hay net. Now he is eating, he is really hungry.

The farrier takes his time to thoroughly check each of Jaskier’s hooves. By the end Jaskier is starting to get a bit impatient with all the poking and prodding. He huffs gently at Geralt. This is a waste of time. Eventually the farrier stands back up and looks at Geralt.

“Everything looks in good order. One shoe is a little loose. I can fix that up if you would like?” the Farrier says. Geralt grunts in affirmation. Jaskier can smell his irritation and worry..

The farrier brings some more tools over and Jaskier shifts nervously, not knowing what to expect. Roach pats his neck reassuringly.

_*It doesn’t hurt. Relax.*_

Jaskier focuses on eating hay and lets the farrier pull his hoof about. He still feels tense but if Roach says it won’t hurt then he trusts her. After pulling off the shoe the farrier cleans and files the hoof. After that he replaces the shoe and nails it back in position. The hammering sends shocks up his leg, he flinches almost expecting pain, but Roach is right it doesn’t hurt. He relaxes after that as the farrier finishes the job. 

The farrier stands up straight and gives Jaskier’s hoof an appraising look as he stands. 

“The shoe is still good and the hoof is in good shape. That should be fine for now.” The farrier says, wiping his brow. Him and Geralt go to sort payment. Jaskier stands there eating, Roach stroking his neck. That could have been worse.

When they are finished with the farrier Geralt leads Jaskier back round to the stables, keeping Roach close just in case. He ties Jaskier in the yard while he fetches their bags and Roach’s tack. Jaskier looks at the tack and starts to panic, he hadn’t thought about this. He was a horse now, of course he would have to be ridden. He stomps his front hooves, his body seems to have too much nervous energy. He doesn’t know how to be a horse. The thought of Geralt riding him is just frankly awkward. 

Roach moves slowly forward and puts a steadying hand on his nose. It feels nice, almost familiar. He starts to calm down. He needs to get it together, if Geralt keeps thinking something is up with ‘Roach’ then he will keep stopping to check on him. That will mean more time getting to Yenn. Jaskier huffs out several breaths, trying to calm himself. 

Geralt is at his side now. He pats down the side of his neck and shoulder. Jaskier calms further, he can do this. How hard can it be to be a horse? Geralt puts the saddle pad across his back, this is fine. Jaskier tries to relax as Geralt begins to adjust the saddle pad. Next Geralt places the saddle on his back, the weight feels odd across his back. He can feel himself start to twitch nervously. His horse body does not like things that are unfamiliar. Part of him wants to just bolt. Geralt strokes down his neck soothingly, clearly sensing his agitation.

“Easy girl, I know the farrier and a ride is a bit much in one day. But, we need to find Yennefer. Can you hold still for me?” Geralt says in a calm quiet voice.

_Well...when you ask me in the voice...I can hardly say no can I?_

Geralt moves slowly and calmly, fitting the neckstrap over his head and settling it around his neck. Jaskier tries his best to stay still. He resists the urge to stomp as Geralt reaches underneath him, the neckstrap tugging as Geralt threads the girth through it's anchor strap. He flinches when the girth tightens. The feel of the strap around him is unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. Geralt pats down his flank and murmurs soft words of encouragement as he goes. Once this is done, Geralt starts attaching the various saddle bags. He has to rearrange them to account for Jaskier’s things as Roach probably couldn’t carry a pack all that well just yet. Jaskier lets himself drift as he is lightly pulled about by the motion of Geralt fixing the various straps.

Once he is done Geralt stands next to his head facing the same way as him. He gently scratches round his ear. Gods that feels good. Jaskier nickers at him happily. It actually sounds more like a noise a horse would make this time. Geralt carefully slips off the head collar but keeps a firm hand around his head petting along his nose. Jaskier is so lost in the feeling of Geralt’s hand on him that he doesn’t really notice Geralt taking the reins over his head. 

The next thing Jaskier knows Geralt has his head held firmly, his shoulder under his neck and his right arm around his head holding him firmly. The bridle is somehow in front of his face, the bit at his mouth. Geralt pushes it against his mouth. Jaskier is too surprised to react at first. He hadn’t thought about this part. Geralt’s fingers deftly wiggle into the side of his mouth and stroke his tongue. The feeling is odd and Jaskier opens his mouth on reflex to dispel the forign object. Quick as anything Geralt gets the bit in his mouth and pulls the bridle up over Jaskier’s ears, securing it in place.

The bit feels so weird in Jaskier’s mouth. He tries to spit it out, tries to chew it. The intrusion is too much of a surprise for his horse body and the panic starts to take over. He stomps and shakes his head. Geralt firms his grip around his nose back up and tries to stop Jaskier moving. Jaskier snorts and tries to spit out the bit again. Geralt uses his free hand to pat down his muzzle to calm him again. 

“I’m sorry, did I surprise you? It’s ok, it’s just me. I’ve got you. Easy now, it’s ok. It’s ok.” Geralt soothes.

Jaskier tries to focus on his voice. The bit feels awful, but he is right, Geralt is there. He just can’t seem to get his panicking body to agree. On his otherside, he feels a hand stroke down his neck. Roach is there, he looks at her with panic in his eyes still trying to get out of Geralt’s hold. 

_*Don’t worry. It feels odd at first. You get used to it.*_

Roach presses her face into Jaskier’s neck and he feels himself calm. Somewhere at the back of his mind he hears the words “herd” and “safe”. He slowly stills. Geralt is still holding him firm and muttering soothing things close to his ear. He still hates the feeling of the bit in his mouth, but at least he wasn’t panicking. He lets Geralt fasten the throat lash. He keeps trying to chew the bit but it's sitting in a gap, just out of reach, so he settles for tonguing it instead. He doesn’t care what Roach says he will never get used to this. He huffs out a grumpy snort.

He can feel Geralt go over his work, checking the straps. He takes the reins, grabs Roach by the arm and leads them both out of the yard. They walk through town, Geralt keeps Roach close. Roach looks tense, she is clearly as uncomfortable in her human body as Jaskier is in his horse body. Geralt leads them out of town and a fair way down the road before he stops and lets go of Roach.

Geralt leads Jaskier up towards a nearby tree stump. Before Jaskier has time to think about it Geralt has used it as a makeshift mounting block and swung himself deftly into the saddle. Jaskier huffs out a snort of surprise at the not inconsiderable weight on his back.

_Melitele’s tits when I thought about you riding me this is not what I had in mind, Geralt. Also you and your thick thighs are heavier than you look._

He feels Geralt gather the reins. There is a slight pressure on the bit in his mouth. Geralt’s legs squeeze his sides and he can feel him lean forward slightly in the saddle. Jaskier is distracted by the pressure on the bit. He tongues it again, wishing it wasn’t there. Geralt is clearly getting impatient and squeezes Jaskier’s sides harder. Jaskier, now distracted from the bit, snorts and tries to look back at Geralt.

_I don’t know what you want, but if you keep that up I will throw you off._

Geralt squeezes again. “Walk on.” he says. Clearly confused as to why Jaskier hasn’t got the message.

_Oh...of course._

Jaskier feels a bit stupid for not realising what Geralt was asking. He wasn’t as experienced with horses as Geralt, but he knew how to ride. It was just very different being on this side of it. He begins walking allowing Geralt to steer him with the reins. He finds himself a bit slow to react. The way Geralt’s weight shifts on him as he walks is odd. He can feel that Geralt is a bit tense riding him. Maybe he notices the difference. Jaskier isn’t Roach after all. The whole experience is a bit overwhelming, the weight on his back, the bit in his mouth and trying to interpret Geralt’s instructions from his new perspective.

 _You'll get used to it. It doesn't actually hurt. You'll get used to it._

He repeats this to himself as they press on. Roach remains close by. Being able to see her and knowing that she is there is a comfort. She seems to be struggling to keep pace, her walking is still lacking any grace. She struggles particularly on rough bits of road, the uneven surface presenting a challenge to her tenuous grasp on balancing a two legged body. Every time it gets a little bit too much they share a glance and they press on.

Eventually, the shadows start to lengthen and Geralt directs them off the road to find a place to make camp. They come across a good clear space at the edge of a copse. Geralt pushes into the saddle, stiffens his back, squeezes Jaskier slightly and pulls back on the reins. Jaskier isn’t expecting it. The surprise pressure of the bit on his tongue startles him. His horse body starts to panic at the unexpected sensation. He feels himself stamp and shake his head against the pressure. 

“Woah.” Geralt says, instantly lessening the pressure slightly, he takes the reins in one hand and pats down Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier’s body is determined to either rear up or bolt. He stamps his feet and pushes down this urge, soothes himself with great difficulty. Geralt just wanted him to stop. That’s all. Once Jaskier has calmed, Geralt dismounts smoothly. He heads round to Jaskier’s head and pets down his muzzle.

“Why are you so jumpy today, eh? It’s ok, I’m here. Good girl. Good girl.” He says soothingly.

They settle for the night. Jaskier is beyond tired. Between all the weird new experiences and trying to keep his horse body from bolting, he is exhausted. He is also so hungry. Was this body ever not hungry? He stays still while Geralt removes the tack. He is relieved when the bridle is replaced with the head collar. His mouth feels free again. Geralt attaches the lead rope and fastens it to a nearby tree. 

Jaskier is so tired he just lets his body go on autopilot. It takes him a few minutes to realise that his head is down and that he is munching grass. He pauses, chewing it thoughtfully. Not half as bad as he expected. He is so hungry that he carries on tearing at it with gusto. 

Geralt starts setting up camp alone. Roach isn’t exactly much help in her current state. She wanders over to him and pats down his flank. She crouches next to him and picks up a handful of grass herself. She stuffs it in her mouth happily before promptly spitting it out. Jaskier snorts, as close as he can get to laughter. Roach pulls a disgusted face.

_*Ergh. It tastes awful. Grass shouldn’t taste awful*_

_You have a human mouth now. Grass doesn’t taste good to us._

_*Your bodies are terrible. So awkward.*_

_Could say the same of yours._

Roach butts him in the neck with her head affectionately. They both watch as Geralt sets up camp. He looks tired.

_*I wish I knew how to help.*_

_Me too._

Geralt finishes lighting a fire and setting out the bedrolls. He comes over and begins the same routine of grooming from the previous night, Jaskier closes his eyes and just enjoys the brushing. Roach wanders off to nose around the camp Geralt has set up. After a thorough inspection she flops down in front of the fire. Jaskier leans into Geralt slightly, quietly enjoying their closeness.

“He is just so off Roach. You should have seen him in town today. It’s like he had never been around people before. He just stole off a market stall. He’s been weirdly good with you though, huh? I just...I just don’t understand why he ran away in the first place.” Geralt says quietly as he brushes down Jaskier’s flank.

_Maybe because she isn't me? I didn’t run anywhere._

“I miss him Roach.” Geralt says in a sad quiet voice. “Don't tell him but I miss his voice... I wish he were able to sing me a song right now, even the stupid coin one." Geralt huffs a sad quiet laugh. He stops brushing and rests his forehead on Jaskier’s neck.

_Miss my voice do you? Oh, I am going to remember this Geralt. I am going to remind you of this every time you tell me to stop caterwauling, every time you say you ‘hate the stupid coin song.’_

Geralt finishes up brushing him in a sad silence. Just before he leaves Jaskier nuzzles into him as affectionately as he can manage without knocking him over.

_I miss you too, you big grumpy idiot._

Geralt returns to the fire and Roach. They are still well stocked with food from the town. Geralt divvies up bread, cheese and dried meat between himself and Roach. Jaskier continues to munch at the grass, watching them. It is very surreal watching Geralt and Roach in his body, sitting eating. It is like some weird kind of out of body experience. Jaskier supposes this is in fact, exactly that.

Eventually Geralt and Roach settle into their bedrolls. Geralt has to help Roach settle on it properly. She tries to sleep the wrong way up the first time. Jaskier watches over them as they both eventually drift off. Despite the exhaustion, he is still too wired to sleep. He goes back to stuffing his face with grass.

“Enjoying the grass I see.” The cold voice of the Fai makes Jaskier startle. He looks round hurriedly, they are sprawled over a branch in a nearby tree. “I must say, this is one of the most entertaining curses I have ever cast. Who could have foreseen? Two idiots briefly become lovers only for one to become a horse. He thinks you ran...even now...and there you are never having left his side. The noble steed indeed. Oh the anguish must be exquisite.” The Fai slips from the tree and floats towards Jaskier.. 

“Was it fun having him ride you? How was it you put it? ‘When I thought about you riding me this is not what I had in mind.’ I haven't laughed so much in years.” The Fai sighs in mirth and looks Jaskier in the eye.

“They had a fun jaunt in town without you, you know? The horse was not particularly good at navigating your human markets to say the least. Word is going to get out that the famous bard Jaskier is now the village idiot.” The Fai, floated past Jaskier to look over at the sleeping forms of Geralt and Roach. If Jaskier could have flushed he would. Today has not been a good day.

_You are an utter bastard, you snarky floating bag of marrowless bones. I hope your stupid mushroom circle is pissed on by by a barghest, you disgusting excuse for a canker-blossom._

The Fai just smirks at him and returns to lounging in his tree.

“Oh, my dear bard, very poetic. Insult me all you want, this curse has only just begun.” The Fair turns and laughs. The inhuman grin on their face bores right into Jaskier’s soul. The Fai lies back and promptly fades into the leaves around them. 

Jaskier stares at the place where the Fai was for a long time, not quite believing they are gone. Eventually he tears his eyes away and looks at the grass below him. This had been an awful day. It was hard work being a horse. He looks over towards Geralt and Roach. He really hopes they can break the curse soon. He is not sure he can handle worse from the curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Horsing Around...we go back to our favourite horse trapped in a bard and see how she handles life on the road with only two legs.
> 
> Thanks so much for staying with me, I am really loving writing this story. Also thanks for all the amazing comments they really inspire me to write more.


	11. Loud Mouth suits you better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *White Mane spoke, and I understood his noises.*
> 
> White Mane? Do you mean Geralt? Could you not understand him before?
> 
> *Geralt…? That does sound like a familiar word. I always called him White Mane. No, I couldn’t understand the noises...at least not beyond the tone of his voice.*
> 
> White Mane...I guess that fits...wait does that mean you don’t know my name either?
> 
> *I call you Loud Mouth.*
> 
> He snorts indignantly and butts Roach none too gently.
> 
> Loud...Loud Mouth? That’s what you call me? I must say even for a horse you are quite rude! I will have you know that my name is Jaskier, Master Bard and Professor of Oxenfurt.
> 
> *Loud Mouth suits you better.*
> 
> Well I…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had a slight hiatus due to a significant birthday and visiting family for the first time this year. Thanks for sticking with me! I love writing this fic ^^

Getting out of the town is somewhat of a relief. With fewer humans around, Roach feels she can relax slightly. Watching Loud Mouth get tacked up had been strange. It was so familiar to her but seeing him flinch at the unfamiliarity of it had made Roach feel an odd sense of comradery. At least she wasn’t the only one struggling with an unfamiliar body.

Roach watches Loud Mouth struggle once White Mane mounts him. He reacts slowly and clearly isn’t prepared for the commands that are second nature to her. She tries to keep in his eye line, but this proves much harder than she anticipates. Two legs really are not good for getting around at any speed. The road isn’t terrible but it is rough in places, which would be fine if she wasn’t trying to keep up with someone on four legs. How Loud Mouth manages to keep up with her and White Mane on the road before they were switched is a mystery. She stumbles several times to start with, so she puts all her focus on the ground and following Loud Mouth. The glances they share seem to keep them both going. This is going to be a long journey.

When they finally move off the road to make camp Roach is exhausted. Between trying to navigate two legs and keeping up with White Mane and Loud Mouth, she has very little left to give. When White Mane pulls to a stop she almost walks into the back of a panicking Loud Mouth. The sudden stop seems to have spooked him. Roach stands back and watches in sympathy as he stomps, trying to calm his urge to bolt. 

Roach had been there many times in her youth. She remembers throwing one of her riders. They had been enjoying a nice early morning ride when a very unexpected hare dashed across her path. Now, at her age there was very little that would spook her. She had met a few too many monsters at White Mane’s side for things to get the jump on her. Having her body swapped with a two legs, however, was a notable exception. 

Thankfully, Loud Mouth manages to calm himself fairly quickly. Roach hangs back awkwardly, not knowing what to do with herself now that they had stopped. She watches as White Mane takes her tack off Loud Mouth and sorts it carefully. He ties Loud Mouth to a nearby tree and begins to go about his usual two leg business. Loud Mouth looks exhausted and has started tearing at the grass at his feet. This at least is familiar. She joins him, patting his flank gently to reassure him.

Grass, that would be just the thing after such a long stressful day. She bends down at Loud Mouth’s side and tears a handful of grass with her still unfamiliar hands. She shoves it into her mouth excitedly only to find the taste bitter and alien. She spits it out her mouth as best she can, the now damp blades sticking to the inside of her mouth in a most unpleasant way. Loud Mouth snorts loudly, a clear sound of amusement.

_ *Ergh. It tastes awful. Grass shouldn’t taste awful* _

_ You have a human mouth now. Grass doesn’t taste good to us.  _

How can grass taste awful? These two legs bodies really were the worst. They wobble all over the place and can’t even eat grass. She has never felt more sorry for them.

_ *Your bodies are terrible. So awkward.* _

_ Could say the same of yours. _

Again, at least she wasn’t alone in her struggles. It was nice to be able to comfortably communicate with Loud Mouth. They didn’t quite speak in horse, it was hard to describe, but it was like she knew his thoughts. She butts his head affectionately. 

She had not been sure of him when White Mane had first allowed him to join their herd. He was so noisy with his chatter and that loud wooden box with the strings. It had annoyed her to no end in the beginning. One of the reasons she loved White Mane was that he was mostly quiet, except when he tended to her. Over the years she had accepted Loud Mouth, he had bribed her with enough apples and other treats to earn her tolerance. Over these last few days she was learning to appreciate him more. He must work hard to keep up with her and White Mane. Also, the difference in White Mane was notable. Since Loud Mouth joined them he seemed happier, Loud Mouth helped him set up camp and helped him when he was hurt. Things Roach couldn’t do. 

She and Loud Mouth watch him set up camp in silence. She wants to help him like Loud Mouth always does. 

_ *I wish I knew how to help.* _

_ Me too. _

White Mane finishes lighting the fire and comes over to where she and Loud Mouth are standing. He sets about starting to groom and settle Loud Mouth. Roach knows he prefers to do this alone so she wanders closer to the fire and inspects the camp, she isn’t normally allowed this close to the fire. It really is quite fascinating and the warmth it gives off is very pleasant. Two legs bodies seem to get cold very easily. She flops down near the fire and enjoys the warmth of it against her now aching muscles. 

When White Mane finishes he joins Roach by the fire and gets out some food: dried meat, cheese and bread. Roach wolfs it down. The dried meat is new to her but it tastes wonderful, rich and salty. Roach can sense Loud Mouth watching them from where he is tied. She can’t tell quite how he is feeling. This substandard nose gives her no clues, she can’t pick up on the scents of other animals very well at all. How do two legs get by without being able to properly scent each other? White Mane at least seems to pick up on most things Roach does. Loud Mouth seems to be mostly nose blind and deaf. At least his eyes were sharp.

Once they finish eating, White Mane encourages her to lie on one of those weird sleeping pads. She sprawls out with her face as close to the fire as she can. White Man sighs and makes her turn around. He tucks blankets around her which only slightly helps with the cold. It was never usually this cold in her normal body. She wriggles around for quite a long time, she isn’t sure how to get comfortable with this strange angular body. Eventually she finds a good position. Sleep is quick to find her after the long tiring day.

-

Roach wakes up the following morning shivering in the early morning cold. It is still early in the year, the nights are still long and cold. Her face has been stuck out of the blankets for most of the night. Without any hair to protect it, it is cold and almost numb. She buries her face in the musty blankets and tries to warm it. Her whole body feels stiff from the cold and from walking the day before. She huddles in on herself hoping it would all just go away. She longs for the comfort of her own body and the security of a stable. After a time she peeks out and sees White Mane is already up and packing things away. Loud Mouth is standing a small distance away, he is eating grass and watching her. They exchange a look. Loud Mouth didn’t look like he’d had a restful night either. Reluctantly, Roach pulls herself up, her aching muscles protesting the movement. White Mane looks up, an unreadable expression on his face. He walks over and drops some bread in her lap.

“Eat up, long days walk ahead.” he grunts. Roach stares back at him. That...that made sense to her...she can understand him. The noises that usually merge together into warbled grunts somehow had meaning to her now. She makes no move to pick up the bread in her lap, she just continues to stare back at him. This was new. What did it mean?

White Mane sighs and turns away, continuing to pack up their camp. Roach looks down at the bread in her lap. She lifts it to her mouth and chews thoughtfully. She could never understand two leg noises before, at least not in detail, mostly she could understand the tone. This was different, she had a very clear idea of what White Mane had said. Her understanding felt very different from understanding a fellow horse, they normally communicated with their bodies and only sometimes used noises. The clarity of two leg speak was unnerving. Once she finished her bread she went over to Loud Mouth, maybe he would know what was happening.

_ *White Mane spoke, and I understood his noises.* _

_ White Mane? Do you mean Geralt? Could you not understand him before? _

_ *Geralt…? That does sound like a familiar word. I always called him White Mane. No, I couldn’t understand the noises...at least not beyond the tone of his voice.* _

_ White Mane...I guess that fits...wait does that mean you don’t know my name either? _

_ *I call you Loud Mouth.* _

He snorts indignantly and butts Roach none too gently.

_ Loud...Loud Mouth? That’s what you call me? I must say even for a horse you are quite rude! I will have you know that my name is Jaskier, Master Bard and Professor of Oxenfurt. _

_ *Loud Mouth suits you better.* _

_ Well I… _

Loud Mouth’s rant descended into an indignant snort. Roach felt a strange feeling bubble up inside her. It came out as that strange barking noise two legs made when they found something amusing. It felt good.

_ Fine laugh all you want but my name is Jaskier. _

_ *Ok, Loud Mouth. Anyway the important thing is why can I suddenly understand White Mane when I didn’t before?* _

_ I don’t know.  _

They both look at White Mane as he packs up the last of their things. He comes over to where they are standing. He gives Roach a curious look as if he is wondering why she is spending so much time with the horse. She supposes that her and Loud Mouth didn’t get on all that well before all this nonsense despite Loud Mouth trying to bribe her with food.

White Mane begins tacking up Loud Mouth again. He doesn’t look as uneasy as he did the previous day but he was still tense. She backs off slightly but stays within sight of Loud Mouth. White Mane begins his usual chatter that he does while tacking up. The difference today is that for the first time Roach can understand what he is saying.

“Are you feeling better today, girl? You seem more settled this morning. Probably going to be a long ride today.” White Mane begins talking to Loud Mouth as if he were Roach. He is clearly tired, grumpiness clear even in these affectionate words. His grumpiness seems to increase as he packs the saddle bags. “Why are mornings so loud out here?” He asks no one. “I thought towns were unbearable but the fucking birds out here just won’t shut the hell up. Soon as the sun is up all they do is make noise. One morning I would just like to wake up to blessed silence. No towns, no birds, no bards….just blessed silence.” Loud Mouth whips his head round and butts him hard in his side. 

_ Rude. Don’t think I am going to forget what you said to me last night Geralt. _

“I didn’t mean you.” White Mane says batting gently at his neck. “You don’t wake me up with inane squawking at the arse crack of dawn.” He pats down his neck in apology. Did White Mane always talk such nonsense when tacking her up? She kicked at the ground impatiently waiting for them both to be ready to leave.

White Mane finishes with the saddle and starts sorting the bridle. Roach can see Loud Mouth start to get more tense. The bit wasn’t that bad...at least not after a while. She tries to catch his eye but he is busy eyeing White Mane. Roach kicks at the ground to get his attention. They both share a look. Loud Mouth has to just bear it for now. She watches as White Mane pulls the reins and then the bridle over Loud Mouth’s head. This time he opens his mouth and allows the bit to be placed in his mouth. He twitches and stamps gently at the sensation but remains calm. He would make a good horse one day, Roach thinks.

Once they leave camp Roach remembers why she ended up so tired the previous day. Keeping up with Loud Mouth and White Mane while she is on foot is an arduous task. Even at a walk the pace seems to be just slightly too fast for her to keep up with. She couldn’t get over how slow two legs bodies were. It took so much effort to get anywhere. Most of her energy was spent consciously keeping herself upright. This was a constant battle, not only because there was balancing on two legs to contend with but also uneven ground and various obstacles like tree roots. It was so easy to trip, and when she did it was such a long ungraceful fall to the ground. Every time she falls, White Mane glances back at her with an irritated twitch and a mumbled curse or grunt telling her to hurry up.

She glowers back at him. She was trying her best in this stupid, unbalanced body. Did he not understand how much hard work it was to keep up? She misses having four legs. Life was just so much easier that way. She has much more respect for Loud Mouth now she knew quite how much work it was to keep up with her and White Mane.

By the time it gets to the heat of the day she is sweating and everything just hurts. She just wants to sit down and have a drink, but White Mane keeps pushing onwards. Loud Mouth seems to sense Roach’s pace slowing and tries to slow down to match her, but White Mane keeps urging him on. After Roach trips for the fifth time that morning she gives up and just sits stubbornly in the dirt of the road. It takes several minutes for Loud Mouth to notice at which point he, thankfully, stops. White Mane tries to urge him on before looking around and noticing Roach sat in the middle of the road. He rolls his eyes, sighs and slips off Loud Mouth’s back. 

“It’s barely midday. If we stop now we will barely make 20 miles today.” White Mane says gruffly, motioning for her to get back up. Roach stays exactly where she is, she stares back at him resolutely. She needs to rest. They lock eyes for several long seconds before White Mane looks away.

“Fine, but we are not staying long.” He reaches into one of the saddle bags and pulls out one of the waterskins, he tosses it at her and it hits her full in the stomach. She lets out a huff and glares at White Mane. Loud Mouth wanders over to her, and nudges her gently.

_ *Is he always like this to you?* _

_ Only sometimes...you should know you are with us most of the time. _

_ *It’s different...understanding him and being on the receiving end of it.* _

_ Well let’s face it he normally dotes on you. Anyway, I would try not to take it too personally. I don’t think he slept much last night. He is always extra grumpy when he is worried and tired. Goodness knows I have been on the receiving end of that enough times. _

_ *But walking on two legs is hard. Keeping up with you is hard. Can he not see that?* _

_ I think he forgets. _

_ *How do you manage to keep up with us?* _

_ Practice. And writing songs as I walk distracts me from how much my legs hurt. _

_ *I can’t write songs.*  _

_ Then tell yourself a nice story as you go.  _

_ *A story about what?* _

_ Whatever you like. What is your favourite thing in the world? _

_ *I like apples.* _

_ Then why not a story about apples. _

Roach hums thoughtfully as she sips water from the skin. White Mane lets her rest for just enough time that she stops feeling unbearably hot. He walks over to her and motions that they should get going. He carefully hauls her back to her feet and brushes her down. He takes the waterskin gently this time, clearly a bit sheepish about his behaviour before. Roach simply glares back at him. 

They carry on as before. It is still hard to keep up, but now Roach’s mind is full of thoughts of apples and lovely late summer mornings: the fresh smell of grass heavy with dew, the pleasant warmth of a day just beginning, the trees and bushes heavy with fruit. All of these thoughts are a comfort in the too cold fresh nip of an early spring day. 

As the day begins to darken in late afternoon they make camp again. Roach watches more carefully this time. She watches as White Mane gathers wood for the fire, clears a space for them to bed down and how he tends to Loud Mouth. As he settles into building the fire Roach decides to join him, quietly watching the process. She has always been wary of fire, it normally smells of danger to her horse senses. Apparently two leg senses didn’t see it that way. White Mane looks at her, his brow creased, he lets out a huff and goes back to his work. He has built a small structure of small twigs that he is now adding some larger sticks to. He does something complicated with his fingers and suddenly the centre of the structure is ablaze. As the twigs light the sticks, she watches him add progressively larger sticks. At first the fire roars and the flames lick up high. As they die down the warmth grows White Mane adds a few logs. Roach watches entranced, with two legs eyes the flames dance and shift colours in ways her horse eyes have never seen. 

White Mane sits back and stares at the fire alongside her. He seems ill at ease. She chances a glance at him, he is watching her, he looks sad. She looks away, this whole situation is frustrating. She wishes she had words to explain what was happening. 

“Do you remember the last time we sat like this?” White Mane asks. Roach looks up at him, she has no idea what he is talking about. She isn't Loud Mouth. “Can you even understand what I say to you? Or did whatever stupid curse you brought on yourself fully rinse you between the ears?” 

_ *I didn’t ask for this you idiot.* _

White Mane huffs and looks away. “Sometimes you look at me and it’s like you can understand me.” He sighs. “But most of the time I may as well be talking to Roach for all you seem to understand.” Roach jumps at these words, could he be starting to get it? She reaches over and grabs his knee. White Mane jerks and looks back at her. She stares at him, willing him to understand. 

_ *Come on...you have to understand.* _

They stay staring at each other for several long moments before White Mane speaks.

“Jaskier?” he breathes. Roach feels the disappointment wash over her. He wasn’t getting it. She turns back to the fire with a huff. Was he always this dense? White Mane makes a frustrated noise and grabs her by the shoulders. “You’re in there aren't you? You can hear me.” His grip tightens and feels quite uncomfortable. Roach squirms against it. 

_ *That hurts you asshole. I will bite you if I have to.* _

White Mane seems to realise what he’s doing and immediately lets go. He lets out a frustrated growl and pounds one of his fists into the leafy dirt at their feet. They stay that way for a time, both lost in their frustration. Eventually, White Mane gets up and goes to the saddle bags. He pulls out the fancy wooden box with strings that Loud Mouth liked to make noises with. He brings it over to Roach and places it carefully in her hands. Roach looks down at it. What on earth was White Mane trying to do by giving this to her? She wasn’t Loud Mouth. She looks up at him in confusion.

“Maybe this will help you.” White Mane stares at her, his expression a mixture of hope and frustration. “Come on Jaskier. You must remember at least this. I...I can’t fucking stand you being so quiet.” Roach stares back at him blankly.

_ *What are you expecting me to do? I am not Loud Mouth. I can’t play this noise box.* _

White Mane kneels in front of her. He gently grabs her hands and places them on the box the way Loud Mouth normally did. He sits back on his feet and looks at her expectantly. She has had just about enough of this. Was White Mane always this stupid? She grips the noise box and stares White Mane dead in the eye and aggressively twacks her fingers across the strings in a deliberately bad impersonation of Loud Mouth.

_ *See? I can’t use this fucking thing, you idiot.. I. Am. Not. Loud. Mouth.* _

She punctuates each word in her head with a hit to the strings and gestures dramatically to where Loud Mouth stands at the edge of their camp. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Loud Mouth wince and shudder at how she is treating the box. She grimaces, she will have to apologise later, but White Mane is just infuriating.

White Mane sighs and looks away. He sits back where he was before and he stares into the fire once again. He looks hopeless and tired. She feels bad for him then. It didn’t take much to see how much Loud Mouth meant to him. All the years they had been a herd just the two of them White Mane had never been as happy and relaxed as when Loud Mouth travelled with them. White Mane looks lonely, she realises. She shuffles up to him and leans on him like she used to when he would nicker on at her in the stables. It seemed to calm him then, she hopes it will help now.

White Mane stiffens at first but relaxes into it after a short while. They stay like that for a while as dusk turns to night. Eventually, White Mane gets up and begins to sort them both some food. 

As he goes about camp Roach looks down at the strange noise box in her lap. She finds she likes having it there, something about it was comforting. She runs her fingers over the smooth wood and up the taught strings. She closes her eyes and enjoys the feel of it. She gently plucks one of the strings. It makes an almost sweet sound, she can feel the vibration of it through all the pads of her fingers. It feels good. She does it again. Gently this time, she runs her thumb over all the strings at once, making them all vibrate. The sound of all of them together is beautiful. There is something about these sounds that is different to her two legs ears. They make her feel warm and safe. She continues to let her fingers run over the strings, playing with the sounds she can make. It is almost like her fingers, completely ungainly in every other way, know what to do. The sounds are addictively pleasant. She finds pressing with the fingers of one hand on the strings changes how they sound. The change is so fascinating she tries as many different combinations as she can. Some of them seem to fall naturally together, she can’t quite describe it, they just sound right. 

She hears a thud and opens her eyes. Once her eyes have adjusted to the firelight she sees both White Mane and Loud Mouth staring at her. Has she...has she been playing it like Loud Mouth did? She looks down at her hands. They were holding it like she somehow knew how to use it. A strange uncomfortable feeling spreads over her. She shouldn’t be able to do that. What was going on? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Horsing Around, Geralt is getting used to the quiet life and there is trouble brewing in the next town...


	12. Of birdsong and silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the dark swirl of sleep Geralt wakes up. His mouth is sour with last night's wine. He feels warm, warmer than he usually is when he wakes up after a night camping in the woods. Slowly the previous evening returns to him, Jaskier’s lips on his, their naked bodies pressed together. 
> 
> “Shall we talk in the morning? Will you hold me until then?” The words from last night echo inside Geralt’s head. He can feel warm arms around him. He feels..safe.
> 
> He opens his eyes slowly, the early morning light too bright for his sensitive eyes. He is tangled in Jaskier’s arms and the blanket. Jaskier is looking down at him sleepily, a smile pulling at his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter yet? Either way this fic is now over 30k words which means it is the longest thing I have ever written (including my Masters thesis xD). 
> 
> I meant to post this with my last chapter but was so excited to post it that I forgot!
> 
> I have started illustrating this fic so far I have done one for [Chapter 1](https://the-devils-goose.tumblr.com/post/624531353143312384/a-few-months-ago-i-started-writing-my-first-ever) and will probably do some more.
> 
> Even more excitingly the amazing [deagle](deagle.tumblr.com) has made [fan art](https://the-devils-goose.tumblr.com/post/627102110881873920/i-love-it-thank-you-deagle-so-good) for this fic and I am so in love with it. Thanks so much deagle, I keep looking at it and falling in love with it more ^^

From the dark swirl of sleep Geralt wakes up. His mouth is sour with last night's wine. He feels warm, warmer than he usually is when he wakes up after a night camping in the woods. Slowly the previous evening returns to him, Jaskier’s lips on his, their naked bodies pressed together. 

_ “Shall we talk in the morning? Will you hold me until then?”  _ The words from last night echo inside Geralt’s head. He can feel warm arms around him. He feels..safe.

He opens his eyes slowly, the early morning light too bright for his sensitive eyes. He is tangled in Jaskier’s arms and the blanket. Jaskier is looking down at him sleepily, a smile pulling at his lips.

“So, the sleeping beauty awakes.” Jaskier says, pulling Geralt closer to him.

“Have you been watching me sleep? That’s creepy.” Geralt asks softly, a smile of his own spreading across his face.

“Well, you have spread yourself quite thoroughly over me and it would be a sin to wake you when you were sleeping so soundly.” Jaskier laughs.

“How are you feeling after the drink?” It’s a vague question. Geralt hopes he doesn’t regret the night before, but the longer Jaskier looks at him like that the less the fear pulls at him.

“Honestly, like someone has danced the night away inside my skull.” Jaskier groans dramatically, clearly exaggerating for dramatic effect. “And like something crawled into my mouth in the night and died.”

“Certainly smells like it.” Geralt smirks up at him. Jaskier gives him a playful smack to the head.

“You are no better, Geralt of Rivia: Dragon breath. How is your head?” He hears a similar note of nervousness reflected in Jaskier’s voice. 

“Feels like all that is in between my ears is swamp fog. But, it’s good to wake up to you.” Geralt says looking up into the bard’s eyes.

“Oh yeah?” Jaskier smiles. “It’s good to wake up to you too. Who wouldn’t like waking up to a sleepy witcher cutting off all the circulation to their lower body?” He wiggles dramatically underneath Geralt. Geralt laughs and rolls them over so Jaskier is sprawled on top of him.

“So you don’t regret it? Last night I mean.” Geralt asks. 

“How could I? I meant it when I said I wanted this for a long time.” Jaskier replies, looking down into Geralt’s eyes. He closes his eyes and presses his lips to Geralt’s. At first the kiss is soft and sweet but it doesn’t take long for it to deepen. Their lips moving softly against each other. Jaskier’s fingers slip into Geralt’s hair, fingernails grazing softly against his scalp. Geralt moans softly into the kiss. The sensation of Jaskier kissing him and revelations of last night and this morning are turning into a passionate ball of want within him. He moves his hands up from Jaskier’s waist to his back, pulling his body closer. The warmth of their bare skin together is heady. He wants more. He pours all his want, all his longing into that kiss. Their mouths are open now, tongues searching, teeth nipping. Their hands pulling at each other, even this deep passionate kiss is not enough contact. Eventually they pull apart panting.

“Fuck.” Geralt pants out gazing adoringly into the bard’s eyes.

“I hope so.” Jaskier replies with a wink. He leans down to kiss along Geralt’s jaw and then down his neck. He punctuates each kiss with soft words. “I have wanted to kiss you...and touch you for...so long.” He moves down to the spot where Geralt’s neck meets his shoulder. Geralt lets out a whine and arches up into the contact. “I have longed to run my hands over you...and enjoy the feel of every scar under my fingers.” As he kisses down the scars on Geralt’s chest he runs his hands up Geralt’s sides and he can't help but moan.

Jaskier moves further down his body, kissing, licking, touching as he goes. “I want to make you come apart. I want to watch your face dissolve in pleasure.” He mouths at one of Geralt’s nipples. The sensation sends a wave of heat through Geralt’s body and he gasps. “Mmmm, want to hear you moan for me. Want to hear you beg.” he kisses lower and looks up at Geralt. The heat in his eyes makes Geralt flush. 

Jaskier lets out a moan of his own and returns to placing kisses down Geralt’s stomach. He nuzzles his face into Geralt’s hip. Geralt resists the urge to arch into it. Fuck, he knows where he wants Jaskier’s mouth to go. Jaskier smirks knowingly and teasingly kisses down the inside of Geralt’s thigh. The sensation sends shocks of pleasure through Geralt’s body and he moans deeper this time. 

“I want to taste you Geralt. I want to know how you’ll feel in my mouth.” Jaskier all but moans into the skin of Geralt’s thigh. 

“Fuck. Jaskier. Please.” Geralt whimpers back.

Jaskier kisses his way back up Geralt’s thigh and nuzzles his face at the base of Geralt’s cock, making pleased little noises. He kisses his way up Geralt’s shaft and softly slips his lips around the head. Geralt lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. Fuck, Jaskier’s mouth felt amazing, warm and soft. Jaskier sucks on his head delicately and then withdraws to lick around it. Every movement of his lips and tongue sets off little jolts of pleasure through Geralt’s body. All he can think of is Jaskier, and how good he feels. Jaskier’s lips sink lower, slowly taking more of him in. He moves his hand up to join his mouth and begins using them in tandem. Geralt lets out a filthy groan at the sensation, he can’t help but move his hand into Jaskier’s hair, the softness helps ground him. 

Jaskier’s other hand softly caresses his balls and then slips behind them. His thumb strokes lightly over Geralt’s hole. He bucks into the contact and whines. Jaskier pulls off Geralt and gasps.

“Can I Geralt? Gods I want to.” he asks, his voice dripping in arousal.

“Please.” Geralt moans. “I want you inside me.”

Jaskier pulls off him for a moment rummaging around in a nearby bag. Geralt hears him pulling the cork from a bottle and the next thing he knows there are slick fingers pressing up against his hole. Jaskier carefully circles around his rim, pressing gently, not quite entering him. One of his hands strokes up Geralt’s thigh reassuringly. 

“I am going to take such good care of you.” Jaskier whispers, pressing in. Geralt hisses as the glorious sensation of being penetrated washes over him. Jaskier presses his finger in all the way to the third knuckle. He withdraws it again slowly and repeats the action until Geralt is grinding his hips down onto it. He then slips another in alongside it. The sensation makes Geralt squirm, he can feel himself leak pre-come onto his stomach. He wants more. Jaskier expertly moves his fingers inside Geralt; stretching and occasionally toying with that spot that has Geralt moaning and muttering nonsense words of praise. 

Geralt has loved this sensation since the first time he and Eskel had discovered it in their youth. It was not something he allowed himself to enjoy often. He rarely trusted people enough to be this vulnerable with them. But that didn’t stop him wanting, or longing...or thinking about it. He has often thought of what it would feel like to have Jaskier there.

Jaskier kisses him deeply as he fingers him open. The sensations make Geralt groan and his legs shake. He wants to feel Jaskier’s cock inside him, to feel his body pressed between his legs. 

“Jaskier, please, I want you.” Geralt grits out.

“I’ve got you...I’ve got you.” Jaskier murmurs in his ear. He slowly removes his fingers from Geralt and slicks himself. He looks down at Geralt, the soft early morning light making the red tones in his hair stand out. Geralt looks up at him and a wave of intense feeling washes over him. The bard’s expression is soft, his lips are pulled up in a gentle smile as he looks down lovingly at Geralt. He looks so beautiful, Geralt never thought he would see him like this, he can’t take his eyes off him. Jaskier bites his lip as he lines himself up with Geralt and begins to push gently inside.

Their eyes don’t leave each other as Jaskier’s cock stretches him open. They both let out a shared gasp as Jaskier’s head slips inside. A wave of intense sensation ripples through Geralt’s body. His mind goes blank save for Jaskier’s eyes and the realisation that the bard is inside him. 

Jaskier slowly pushes deeper, the slick slide of him inside Geralt draws a whine from deep inside his chest. Once their hips are flush Jaskier lets out a breath he has clearly been holding since he entered Geralt. Their faces are close, their bodies pressed to each other. They stay there for a long moment just feeling the intensity of their bodies meeting in this way. Then Jaskier begins to move.

It’s like every piece of tension that has built in the years he has longed for Jaskier is being released at once. It is like every nerve in his body is being set on fire all at once yet the only things he can focus on are where he and Jaskier are joined and the heated loving gaze the bard is returning. 

“Geralt, I...fuck...you feel so good.” Jaskier pants as he grinds into Geralt.

“Jas...Jaskier…” He can’t tear himself away from the bard’s eyes. All his feelings for the man are starting to overwhelm him. “I...I love you.” The words tumble from his mouth as the enormity of the admission washes over him. Jaskier’s face softens, he looks like he is about to say something.

A bird shrieks somewhere in the forest.

Geralt’s eyes open, it is cold and dark. He instinctively whips round to where his senses tell him the noise came from. The cold harsh reality of the waking world comes back to Geralt like a bucket of cold water poured over him from a great height. They had not woken that morning and talked, Jaskier had run and now he was cursed. Geralt was as alone as he ever was. 

His senses strain for evidence of a threat in the dark forest. He only hears the incessant noises that signals the birds have started preparing for dawn. At this point in the year they are all trying to find a mate and defend territory. The noise begins early at the first sliver of dawn. Geralt really hates Spring. He doesn’t understand why people are so enamoured with birdsong. It is basically just small creatures shouting “Fuck me!” or “Fuck off!” where was the romanticism in that?

He can hear the bard snoring on the other side of the fire, he can hear the soft breaths of Roach across the camp. As the alertness fades, the dark knot of feeling he has been suppressing these last few days wells up. He knows he shouldn’t let himself feel it, but the shock of waking from that dream has lowered his usual defenses. His chest aches with the rejection, with the worry and he can feel a tight coil of anger simmer deep in his gut. The anger he knows is directed at himself...but it feels so much easier to project it onto the bard. The stupid fool who ran instead of being honest with his friend, who got himself cursed so Geralt couldn’t just deal with his hurt feelings in peace. Now he had to pick up after the bard once again, now with the constant reminder that he wasn’t good enough, that he wasn’t loved. Geralt’s eyes burned, he closed them tight. He would not weep over this again. He took in several deep breaths. He was going to force this back down. It did not serve him well to allow these feelings a hold. He had already messed up enough by letting them exist in the first place.

Geralt lies there unable to sleep. The noise of the birds is a constant irritation to his sensitive hearing. He keeps his breathing even, but he knows it is futile to try and sleep now. As the early spring sun rises and the temperature drops off he finally decides just to get up and begin packing up the camp. His body and eyes ache from exhaustion but there is nothing for it but to just carry on. The sooner he can find Yenn the better.

Getting back on the road the previous day had not been easy. Between his worry over Roach still seeming a bit off and Jaskier being cursed there was a lot to contend with. Roach seemed to mostly calm once they were well away from the town. Jaskier was slower than normal, but Geralt had put that down to the curse. He seemed very keen to keep close to Roach. Throughout their stay in the town he had used any excuse to stay close to her. At least he hadn’t seemed interested in wandering off...at least not in this state. Unlike after that night... 

Geralt had felt so heavy and small every time he was reminded of it. He had tried to push the feelings back down, but had ended up so focussed on ignoring his feelings that he stopped Roach too quickly and she had spooked, nearly throwing him off. She, thankfully, calmed down and he had managed to get down safely. It had been a hard day on her, he made sure to take extra care of her that night. He’d about making camp. The bard stayed close to the horse and just watched him silently. This had made Geralt uneasy, the silence bothered him. It felt so unnatural to be in the bard’s presence and for him to be so quiet. It set Geralt on edge, he missed the comfort of the bard’s chatter, the melodic background music of him composing or even just humming absentmindedly. He would have even taken that wretched coin song. If Geralt was honest he had always secretly quite liked that song. It reminded him that the bard cared about his reputation, no one had really cared about him that way before. Despite everything: the running away, the curse, the conversations that still needed to be had, he missed his friend.

He looks up from his thoughts and notices Jaskier stirring. He should probably sort the bard some food, they had a long way to go today. They needed to head West past the Mahakam Mountains, there were more towns in that direction, and more places to ask after Yenn. 

Geralt watches as Jaskier sits up stiffly. His brain helpfully supplies him with some images from last night's dream and a fresh wave of sadness washes over him. He looks away quickly and grabs some bread from one of the bags and drops it in his lap.

“Eat up, long days walk ahead.” he grunts. He isn't sure why he bothers talking to him still. Most of the time he just looks back blankly like he doesn’t understand a word. Jaskier sits there staring back at him with an odd look on his face. He makes no move to pick up the bread; he just stares back at Geralt like he wants to say something. Geralt waits, the bard says nothing. He turns away, it is just wishful thinking.

The bard wanders over to Roach once he finishes eating. Roach snorts and butts him affectionately. Geralt watches out of the corner of his eye curiously. Roach snorts and Jaskier bursts out laughing. Geralt looks up fully now. This is the most noise the bard has made since he found him at the side of the road. He finishes the last of the packing and heads over to start tacking up Roach. Jaskier backs away and leaves him to it. 

Roach seems calmer today. Perhaps there was something off about that town he just didn’t pick up on.

“Are you feeling better today, girl? You seem more settled this morning. Probably going to be a long ride today.” He starts talking to her in an attempt to relieve his sleep deprived irritation. He lets his mind go through the familiar motions of putting on Roach’s tack. He could probably do this in his sleep. 

The forest is still loud with the sounds of birds, he can’t wait to get on the road and away from the tree cover. “Why are mornings so loud out here? I thought towns were unbearable but the fucking birds out here just won’t shut the hell up. Soon as the sun is up all they do is make noise. One morning I would just like to wake up to blessed silence. No towns, no birds, no bards...just blessed silence.” He lets out an irritated sigh. Roach swings her head round and butts him.

“I didn’t mean you.” He bats her gently back. “You don’t wake me up with inane squawking at the arse crack of dawn.” He strokes down her neck and tries to let go of his irritation. He finishes up and finds a stump so he can mount her easily.

The day begins easily enough. He is almost starting to feel more, well not human, but less grumpy. The bard seems to be struggling to keep up. He has Roach going at the slowest comfortable walking pace but the bard seems to struggle even to keep up with that. He seems to keep tripping over rocks and tree roots. Geralt can’t help but let his irritation get the better of him. It’s bad enough that they are in this situation but having to go at such a painfully slow pace is just tipping him over the edge. As it continues he glares back at him, occasionally swearing under his breath. 

It reaches around midday and the bard falls over once more, but this time he just sits in the road not moving. Roach notices before he does and stops. Geralt looks back at him, waiting for him to get back up. When it becomes clear that the bard has no intention of getting back up, Geralt slips off Roach and marches up to him. He can feel all his growing frustration start to boil over.

“It’s barely midday. If we stop now we will barely make 20 miles today.” he grunts. The bard wasn’t even carrying his pack or his lute, Roach was picking up his slack. The bard stays exactly where he is staring straight at Geralt indignantly. Something about that look makes Geralt uneasy, it doesn’t quite feel like the bard. He shifts uncomfortably under that look.

“Fine, but we are not staying long.” He reaches into one of the saddle bags and retrieves a waterskin. He tosses it at the bard a little harder than necessary and it hits him in the stomach. He huffs and glares at Geralt again. Geralt turns away trying to calm his barely contained annoyance. 

He looks back and sees that Roach has wandered over and is nudging affectionately at the bard. He takes sips from the water skin. He does look tired. Geralt lets out an irritated sigh. He probably was being too harsh, the bard was clearly struggling. He should be kinder...he could be kinder. Once the bard has rested Geralt heads over. He takes the waterskin gently this time and hauls the bard to his feet. He brushes the road dust off him carefully. The bard continues just to glare at him.

They get back on the road. The bard seems to find it easier to keep up now. Geralt makes more of an effort to keep pace with him this time. They make good progress, but unfortunately not as good as they would on a normal day. As the day begins to draw to a close he takes them off the road to make camp once more. 

This time the bard watches more closely as Geralt clears and lines the spots he has picked for their bed rolls. He lines the area carefully with moss he has gathered. He tends to Roach making sure she is well brushed and fed. Then he begins to build a fire. 

The bard watches him in fascination as if he had never seen such a thing up close before. Geralt purposely slows down a little, something about the way the bard is watching him eases something inside of him. He looks at him and wishes he understood what was going on for him right now. This is the most engaged he had been since they started on the road. Geralt goes back to his task with a huff, but now does each step of building the fire slowly and deliberately, like he was showing a child.

Jaskier watches with fascination as he lights the tinder with a quick flick of Igni. His eyes are wide as this catches the kindling. Slowly Geralt adds more fuel until they have a comfortably roaring fire. Jaskier looks like he has been hypnotised by the flames.

Geralt settles down beside him. The flames dance and cast shadows across the bard’s open beautiful face. Geralt feels his guts twist at the sight, remembering how beautiful the bard looked in the firelight that night. The bard turns and looks at him and Geralt can’t help the tug of sadness that pulls at his chest.

“Do you remember the last time we sat like this?” he asks. He is not sure why he asks this. But Jaskier looks at him intently, a crease between his brows. It is almost like he can understand, but that is probably Geralt’s foolish wishful thinking. “Can you even understand what I say to you? Or did whatever stupid curse you brought on yourself fully rinse you between the ears?” Jaskier continues to look up at him. Geralt huffs and turns away. Holding the bard’s gaze still made him uncomfortable.

“Sometimes you look at me and it’s like you can understand me.” Geralt sighs. “But most of the time I may as well be talking to Roach for all you seem to understand.” He stares into the fire sadly.

Jaskier seems to jump at these words, he reaches out and grabs Geralt’s knee. He flinches at the contact and turns back to the bard. He is looking up at him, an earnest look on his face. Wait. Did he actually understand? Was he in there somewhere. Geralt feels his slow heartbeat pick up slightly.

“Jaskier?” he breathes. The bard’s face falls and he looks back at the fire with a huff. Geralt isn’t going to let this drop, he makes a frustrated grunt and grabs the bard by the shoulders. “You’re in there aren't you? You can hear me.” He grips Jaskier’s shoulders, willing him to be there. The bard squirms in his grip looking almost scared. Geralt immediately lets go, feeling guilty at being the one to cause that look. He growls in frustration and pounds his fist into the earth at his feet.

He stays there a while trying to think, is there something he could do to reach the bard if he was still in there? He tries to recall what he knows of curses. He has never seen something quite like this before. There was no curse mark, no obvious indication of what had been done or why. Maybe there was some other way to pull him back without breaking the curse. What would pull Jaskier back to himself? Suddenly an idea came to him. Jaskier’s lute. If anything would pull the bard back to himself it would be his lute. He gets up and retrieves the instrument from the saddlebags. He places it carefully in Jaskier’s hands and looks at him hopefully. 

“Maybe this will help you.”Geralt says. Jaskier looks back at him in confusion. Geralt can feel the knot of frustration and sadness build up again. Above all he is tired of the silence, he just wants the background hum of his friend back. “Come on Jaskier. You must remember at least this. I...I can’t fucking stand you being so quiet.” Jaskier continues to stare back blankly.

Maybe he needs help. Geralt kneels before him and places Jaskier’s hands on the lute. He looks at him expectantly. Come on bard, you have to remember. Jaskier’s gaze hardens and he grips the lute and stares Geralt dead in the eye. He then aggressively strikes the lute in a poor impression of playing and gestures wildly to the forest. He clearly has no idea what the lute is.

Geralt sighs and looks away. He sits back down by the fire. Maybe this was hopeless. Maybe Jaskier was truly gone forever. Who was to say if the curse was even removable. What if he was just stuck like this forever? Geralt swallows against the lump in his throat. What if he was destined to follow the path alone and in silence? That used to be enough for him. But now...now he was used to company and camaraderie. Going back to being solitary felt like such a wrench. 

Just as his thoughts start to really spiral, Jaskier nudges up against him, leaning into him. He stiffens at the contact, not sure what it means or how he is supposed to feel. The warmth of the bard’s body is soothing. He lets himself relax into the contact. He evens out his breathing once again. He wasn’t all alone yet.

They sit like that for a while before he gets up and begins to start sorting them some food. They are starting to run low on supplies. He will have to forage and possibly hunt in the next few days. Hunting would last a few days, after that they will probably need to get to a town and stock up again. Without Jaskier’s coin from performing Geralt is running low. He might have to take a contract. The idea of it makes him uneasy.

He is drawn sharply out of his thoughts as he hears the discordant plucking of the lute. He looks round and Jaskier is running his hands over the strings, occasionally plucking them. As he does so he begins to play notes that sound more in tune. Geralt holds still watching, not wanting to startle the bard. His hands move, testing out different sounds and ways of plucking the strings. He plays a chord and then another. It doesn’t quite sound like Jaskier’s normal playing but he is still playing the lute.

Geralt feels a twist of relief in his chest. He lets out a long breath, his shoulders slump and he accidentally loses his grip on the waterskin in his hands, it slips to the floor with a thud. The noise startles the bard, he looks up and sees Geralt staring. He then looks down at the lute almost in disbelief. His bard was in there, Geralt knew it.

-

The next few days on the road pass much the same. As they go, Jaskier seems to get better at keeping pace with Geralt and Roach. When he tires near the end of the third day Geralt helps him into Roach’s saddle. It takes a bit of convincing on both parts but eventually Jaskier settles and allows Geralt to lead Roach. 

In the evenings he sets up their camp. Jaskier seems to be either remembering this or taking it in as he begins to help with some of the more basic tasks like sorting space for them to sleep and collecting firewood. After eating, Geralt gets the lute out for Jaskier and lets the bard play. It still sounds nothing like the bard’s usual playing but as the nights went on the experimental plucking and strumming seem to come together into pieces of music. 

Geralt makes their supplies last as long as he can with the addition of the foraged leaves. But, after a week on the road their supplies are running low and he starts to feel the tiredness of travelling without enough food and starts to see the bard flag. He needs to hunt. He has been dreading this. Ordinarily, he would trust Jaskier to look after himself while he went and hunted game. Jaskier was even fairly proficient in trapping if the opportunity arose. But the bard in his current state would be vulnerable if left alone and would be a liability hunting. 

At the end of the fourth day Geralt scouts out a camp that is best placed for him to stop and hunt. He can smell the presence of rabbits and squirrels and it is positioned far enough from the road that they will be well hidden from other travellers. It is a small clearing with a large oak on one side and a large protruding rock on the other. The cover would help shelter them from the elements but also keep them from easy view. There is a stream not far off with water that is clear and icy cold from the mountains. He sets up the camp with some help from Jaskier. He shares out the last of their food and collects together what he needs to set snares. It is not quite dark yet, Geralt is hoping he can set a series of snares relatively close to the camp so he isnt leaving Jaskier alone for too long. 

He follows his nose to where the smell of rabbit is strongest. He scans the forest floor looking for signs of rabbit runs, widening his search outwards. Eventually he sees some disturbance that looks like a run. Some excrement amongst the forest leaves confirms his suspicion. He follows the run, giving it a wide berth so as not to disturb it with his tracks or scent. He comes across a fallen branch amongst the brush and finds a good spot to set a snare. He carries on this task until he has found four good spots to set snares. All the while his hearing is tuned back in the direction of the camp, ready to dash back at the slightest sound of danger.

He heads back to camp swiftly, not wanting to leave the bard longer than necessary. As he draws near the camp he catches a glimpse of Jaskier and Roach between the trees. Jaskier is standing with Roach...brushing her. Geralt stops in his tracks. He has never shown Jaskier how to do that, yet there he is brushing her, Roach happily nickering at him. He supposes Jaskier must have picked it up from watching him. He found the weird bond that was forming between Roach and Jaskier in this state disconcerting. Roach was normally not fond of anyone apart from him. She had always been quite a bitey mare and Jaskier had been no exception. Before the curse, Geralt would have said Roach tolerated him at best. Yet here they were, looking almost as close as himself and Roach. 

He walks towards them, as he gets closer they both startle and look at him almost guiltily. He raises an eyebrow at them and Jaskier drops the brush and goes to sit on his bed roll. Geralt goes to pick it up. He stands and pats down Roach’s neck.

“What is with you two all of a sudden? I thought you only liked him if you could bite him or if he was sneaking you food?” he says softly to her. Roach snorts back.

Geralt gets Jaskier settled for bed and makes sure he is prepared to check the snares in the morning. They will be staying here the next day or so, so Geralt can hunt and prepare the meat. As he is sorting through one of the saddle bags his hand knocks into what feels like a large pebble. He pulls it out, initially confused. It's the stone with the hole the crazy old woman, Gristlefiddle, gave him. He looks at it for a while, it is unusual to get a stone that has been eroded this way. 

Something in the back of his mind nags at him. They were called something rocks like this: a hagstone. They were often used by hedge witches or small time magic users for various things. He tries to remember what he had read about them; some accounts said that they could be used in spells of invisibility or as charms for chicken coops. But, there was something else, there were a lot of accounts of them being used to see what is unseen by looking through the hole. Geralt thinks it over, the old woman was probably a hack, but what was it she had said? ‘It will help you see.’ Maybe it could help him work out what the curse on Jaskier was? It was worth a try. He puts the stone to his eye, feeling a bit foolish for even trying. He looks at the sleeping bard. There is a strange quality to the world as he looks through it, but the bard looks the same as ever. He stays like that a while, hoping that something may just appear. But it doesn’t. He sighs and tosses the stone back in the bag. The old woman was definitely a hack.

He lies back on his own bedroll and looks up at the stars between the tree branches. The exhaustion of the last week had caught up with him and he manages to drift off to sleep more easily than the last few nights.

-

Geralt wakes early and goes to quickly check the snares. Luckily three of them have caught fair sized rabbits. He quickly dispatches of them and resets the snares before heading back to camp. He skins and butchers the meat before cleaning the skins. If he cleans and dries them well enough they might fetch a few coins in the next town, Geralt has a feeling it is wise to make use of every last coin on this trip. Once he is done he starts setting up the fire for smoking meat. He cuts the meat into thin strips and attaches them to smoking racks he has made from twigs and twine. Once the fire has died down again he arranges the meat under the cover of his makeshift smoker and adds some green branches to create the smoke. 

The smell of smoke rouses Jaskier, he sits up jerkily looking slightly panicked. He looks around and seems to calm when he sees Geralt sitting nearby. He watches with interest as Geralt tends to the meat, taking out the meat once it’s smoked and adding more strips of meat to the racks to be smoked. Once some of it has cooled Geralt gives a few pieces to Jaskier and he eats it eagerly. The meat is chewy but it’s the best they can manage at the moment. Once the meat is smoked, Geralt clears up and heads out to check the snares again. This time there is only one rabbit. He decides it's safer to clear away the snares. He doesn’t want to be away from the camp too long now there is the obvious smell of meat and smoke in the air. This rabbit could make a passable stew.

Once he has cleaned and butchered the next rabbit, he sets it in a pot with some water and salt to brine. He then starts looking for other potential ingredients for the stew near the camp. Yesterday, he had spotted some early wild leaks. He also manages to find some nettles and some wild garlic. It wasn’t much but it would do. He at least had enough salt to give the stew some flavour.

He returns to the camp and starts making preparations for cooking. He builds the fire up again to let it burn down to a good temperature for cooking. By this time, the meat had brined enough not to be too tough when stewed. He sears the rabbit on the fire for a while first and then adds it to the pot with the foraged leeks and leaves. He adds water and salt and leaves it on top of the hot coals. It will need several hours to stew, so he sits back against the oak tree and lets himself rest. Hunting and preparing food was tiring enough when Jaskier was helping him. On his own it was a lot to do in one day. He could almost sleep. He lets his mind wander, keeping his ears trained on the sounds of the forest around him. 

Jaskier comes and flops next to him. He has his lute and plucks at it lazily. A few years ago this would have infuriated Geralt; the bard interrupting his quiet time. Now, it felt like a small comfort. The sound allowed him hope that maybe things could go back to how they were...or at least an approximation. 

Geralt lies there for the next few hours in as close to what he's known to relaxation since that night. As the smell of the cooking stew begins to make his stomach grumble, he removes it from the fire to cool slightly before him and Jaskier dig in. They both eat in pleased silence for a long time. The hard days walking on little food fueling their hunger. Eventually, when they have both eaten their fill, they lie back to digest their meal. They both sleep very well that night.

-

They eat well for the next few days, but Geralt knows that the hunting had been risky. Really they need to buy in more supplies. They need to go to a town, and he needs to take a contract. His plan is to follow the Pontar. News travels fast in towns along the river, if Yenn is nearby it is likely he will hear of it. Currently, they are near the border between Kaedwen and Redania. The nearest large town to them is Murivel, about two days' travel West. 

Jaskier seems to find it easier to keep up now that he is better fed. They make good time and reach the outskirts of Murivel on the afternoon of the second day. Geralt gets off Roach and walks close to Jaskier as he leads Roach. He can already feel himself tense as they enter the town. He can feel the eyes of curious locals on him. This was going to be a long hard few days. He draws in a deep breath and lets out a long sigh. Best get it over with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Horsing Around, Jaskier is freaking out over Roach playing the lute and there is some hefty angst on the horizon...oh no.
> 
> I am back on tumblr please feel free to say hi ^^ [the-devils-goose.tumblr.com](the-devils-goose.tumblr.com)


	13. The smell of regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Roach enter the stables, Jaskier immediately senses an atmosphere and smells the rank scent of stale alcohol. Did Geralt go drinking last night? He does look like death, his hair has been messily shoved back into a ponytail, he has bags under his eyes and he is barely looking at Roach. Roach looked like her normal self but was clearly slightly uneasy at Geralt’s state. Geralt opens the stall and slips the head collar onto Jaskier and leads him outside. He starts busying himself with the tack and their bags. Roach comes over and stands near Jaskier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting into the angst now ^^ Thanks so much for your lovely comments. They honestly mean the world to me :)

Watching Geralt with Roach hurt. Seeing the sadness in Geralt’s eyes as he tries to get what he thinks is Jaskier to remember. Jaskier watches sadly from where he is tethered.

“Jaskier?” You’re in there aren't you? You can hear me.” Jaskier winces as he listens to the desperation in Geralt’s voice and watches Roach squirms in his grip.

_ *That hurts you asshole. I will bite you if I have to.* _

Geralt almost immediately lets go. Jaskier looks away. It is too painful to watch. He hears Geralt rummaging in the bags and turns to see him place Jaskier’s lute in Roach’s lap. Jaskier doesn’t know whether to laugh or cringe. He hopes Roach doesn’t damage it.

“Maybe this will help you. Come on Jaskier. You must remember at least this. I...I can’t fucking stand you being so quiet.” Jaskier scoffs internally, the bastard sure had changed his tune.

_ *What are you expecting me to do? I am not Loud Mouth. I can’t play this noise box.* _

Geralt tries to place Roach’s hands on the lute how he thinks Jaskier would. He can see Roach bristle with frustration. She grips the lute and looks straight at Geralt and aggressively strums her fingers across the strings. Jaskier winces, Roach may as well have been hitting his own heart strings.

_ *See? I can’t use this fucking thing, you idiot.. I. Am. Not. Loud. Mouth.* _

She punctuates each word in her head with a hit to the strings and gestures dramatically towards Jaskier. He shudders at each additional strike at his poor lute strings. He hopes at least Geralt might get the point. He looks over hopefully, but Geralt just looks sadder. He looks away and tries to focus on eating grass. Turns out grass is actually quite nice. Over the last few days Jaskier has developed quite the taste for it.

He loses himself in the repetitive motion of eating until he hears a soft plucking noise. His ears flick to attention and he raises his head. Roach is sat with his lute...holding it properly? She is absentmindedly running her hands over it, occasionally plucking a string. It is mostly out of tune, but then the lute is probably in desperate need of tuning by now. She gently strums a chord, it is slightly off….but still a chord. Jaskier’s mouth drops open. What in Melitele’s name was going on?

He watches transfixed as Roach continues play with the lute. It was out of tune and clumsy but it was like her fingers somehow knew what to do. She does a few chord progressions, her face lost in concentration, her eyes closed. Jaskier can’t quite believe it. How was a horse playing a lute? 

He hears a loud thud that breaks the magic of the moment. Roach startles, Geralt has dropped something while also starring dumbfounded at Roach. Roach looks up, shock and confusion clear on her face.

-

The next few days on the road pass uneasily for Jaskier. The lute playing from that night still nagging at his mind. Did his body just know how to play so instinctively that his fingers had just played for Roach? Was this something to do with the curse? Either way it made him uncomfortable. 

The days of walking were long and there was very little opportunity to talk to Roach. She was getting better at keeping up, but as their supplies dwindled she looked more and more tired. 

Roach seems to be getting better at doing human things, she starts helping Geralt set up camp. On the one hand Jaskier is pleased that Geralt is getting some help, he has been looking particularly tired these last few days. On the other hand watching someone else help him with the things that are usually Jaskier’s job creates a dull ache in his chest. He likes being the person who makes Geralt’s life easier. He likes seeing his friend be able to relax after a long day. 

Every evening Geralt brought out the lute and Roach would play for a while, she was really starting to get the hang of it, despite not being able to tune it properly. This piqued Jaskier’s curiosity more and more as the days went on. He desperately wanted to talk to Roach about it.

-

On the third day, Roach was really starting to slow from the lack of food. Jaskier was starting to worry so slowed considerably to keep pace with her. Geralt took Roach in and slipped from the saddle. He went over to her and led her to Jaskier. He put his large hands around her waist and hoisted her onto Jaskier’s back. Roach squeaked and flailed slightly, clearly not expecting it. Jaskier stamped, the wriggling setting off his urge to bolt. Roach eventually settled and let Geralt get her settled properly in the saddle. Roach sat stiffly clearly finding the reverse in positions strange.

_ Ok up there? _

_ *Y-yeah. This is so weird Loud Mouth.* _

_ I can only imagine. You can relax you know? It’s not like I am going to throw you. _

_ *If you do, I will bite you.* _

_ Of that I have no doubt…  _

They continue for a little while. Roach starts to loosen up and move with Jaskier after a time.

_ About the other night, how...how did you know how to play? _

_ *I can’t really explain it. It just...felt right? My fingers seemed to kind of know what to do. It felt good. I felt at peace. I felt...* _

_ *Safe?* _

_ *Yeah...safe. Loud Mouth...what does it mean? Am I turning into a two legs? I...I don’t want to be two legs. I like being a horse. I like having four legs. I miss grass* _

_ I don’t know. I wish I did. We will be ok though. Somehow.  _

They carry on in subdued silence for the rest of the day. What was going to happen to them?

-

At the end of the fourth day Geralt takes them further off the road to camp earlier than usual. Jaskier imagines it is because he intends to go hunting. Geralt sets up camp and shares the last of the food with Roach. He then sets off to hunt, a very tense expression on his face. Jaskier understands, himself and Roach are vulnerable like this. As he leaves Roach gives him a look and immediately wanders over and stands close to him.

_ *I don’t like being left alone out here. Not in this body.* _

_ It will be ok. I am here too. _

Jaskier is mostly trying to convince himself, he doesn’t like it anymore than Roach does. They stand there for a while, shifting nervously.

_ Maybe we should do something to distract ourselves.  _

_ *Like what?* _

Jaskier looks around, trying to think of something. He sees the grooming brushes where they have been left after Geralt’s attention earlier. 

_ How about the brushes? _

Roach snorts. 

_ *You just want an excuse to be brushed. I know how it is.* _

Jaskier butts her affectionately.

_ You’re not wrong. But you got any better ideas? _

_ *No.* _

She huffs and collects the brushes from the floor. She begins to work and they both feel the tension they are holding dissipate. Roach seems to know exactly how to get to all the bits where it feels best. Jaskier nickers contentedly at her. After a while they both hear a twig snap and jerk up. Jaskier pleads with the gods that it isn’t a genuine threat, but he thankfully sees the familiar shape of Geralt through the trees. Roach drops the brush like a guilty child and goes to sit on her bedroll. Geralt picks up the brush and pats down Jaskier’s neck. He gives both him and Roach odd looks.

“What is with you two all of a sudden? I thought you only liked him if you could bite him or if he was sneaking you food?” he says softly to him. Jaskier snorts back.

_ Things have changed a bit since then, Geralt. _

-

The next day Geralt gets up early to check the snares. He comes back to prepare and smoke the meat. They spend a restful day around the camp as Geralt smokes the meat and prepares a stew. Geralt still looks very tired, usually Jaskier would be around to help with these sorts of tasks. Jaskier remembers days like this fondly, they often played dice or talked nonsense while they waited for the meat to cook. 

Once the majority of the work is done, Geralt leans back against an oak tree and is joined by Roach. Jaskier is glad to see them both rest. He busies himself with eating grass, it feels almost peaceful. The evening comes in with the scent of the stew wafting through the camp. Both Geralt and Roach eat ravenously. Watching them Jaskier expects to feel jealous of the food but oddly enough he is really starting to like grass. 

-

The next few days are easier going with everyone well fed. Jaskier is beginning to find being ridden much easier. Maybe he is just a fast learner, but his body just seems to know how to react to Geralt’s commands now. Some of them he is sure he never learnt when he was taught to ride, but the ease at which he can understand what Geralt wants makes the whole ordeal a lot easier.

The terrain changes as they leave Kaedwen and enter Redania, the thick forest melting into rolling farmland. Geralt seems to be taking them towards Murivel. As they approach the town, Geralt gets off Jaskier and pulls Roach close to him. The tension in his body is obvious. As they enter the town the locals stare at them, Geralt has always hated being stared at like this. Usually Jaskier is there to act as a barrier, but he is not much use as a horse.

They walk through the edge of the town, Geralt keeping them out of the way of any crowds of people. Murivel is a lot bigger than the small tow they were in before. In the late afternoon light the narrow streets are cast mostly in shadows. Geralt leads them to an inn tucked out of the way of the main roads. It is a long low building with a well kept stable towards the back. Geralt goes straight to the stable and gets Jaskier settled for the night. He makes sure he has a decent bucket of oats and a well stocked hay net. Jaskier hadn’t realised what a difference the food made. Apparently he had been getting quite worn down by the travelling too. Being in the safe confines of a stable felt almost luxurious to him now. 

Geralt seems to be in a quiet mood as he tends to him. The tension Jaskier sensed as they entered the town hasn’t left. Roach hangs around outside the stall, she has quite a bit of energy today and is looking around her surroundings with fascination. She wanders to the door and looks out, she almost looks like she is about to head into the yard before Geralt tells her to come back. She turns back reluctantly and heads back to the stall. On the way she stubs her toe loudly on one of the buckets. Jaskier flinches at the noise.

“FUCK.” Roach curses in Jaskier’s voice. Jaskier stiffens, did she just? Geralt, to begin with, doesn’t seem to notice. Someone swearing when they stub their toe is to be expected. It is only as Jaskier turns to look at Roach that Geralt’s mind catches up. He jerks up from where he is brushing Jaskier to stare at her too. Roach is holding her foot and hopping. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck.” she curses again. Geralt drops the brush and goes over to her.

“You can speak? Jaskier?” Geralt asks, a note of desperation in his voice. Roach looks back at him and a look of surprise and realisation crosses her face. She looks down at her foot and then up at Geralt. 

“Fuck.” she repeats. Geralt’s face falls slightly.

“Did you stub your toe?” he asks. Trying to prompt a response.

“Toe...toe, fuck.” she replies. Geralt stares at her. His expression a strange mix of hopeful and disappointed. He quickly grabs their things and hurries Roach towards the inn. Jaskier moves to hang his head over the stall door. He can’t believe what he has just seen. What does it mean? Something about it gives him an ominous feeling. 

Jaskier struggles to sleep that night, despite being exhausted from the road. He is desperate to know what Roach being able to talk means. He almost wishes the Fae would show its face, then at least he might have some idea what was happening. He paces in his stall, feeling restless. He wants to speak to Roach and see what had happened on her end. As he paces a thought strikes him, if Roach could talk...then she could tell Geralt what had happened! Geralt would know what to do then. He wishes he could know what Roach and Geralt were doing. Eventually the exhaustion gets the better of him and he manages to drift into a restless sleep.

-

The next day seems to crawl slower than a glacier. Other horses come and go, the stable hand mucks out the stalls and gives Jaskier a new hay net. Jaskier is impatient to try and talk to Roach or at least see if she managed to let Geralt know what was happening. He feels so restless he could almost crawl out of his own skin. Eventually, in the early afternoon Geralt comes to tend to him. He seems agitated but acts no differently towards Jaskier than he normally would. Roach must not have been able to tell him, Jaskier feels himself drooping in disappointment. He is so tired of this situation, he just wants his old body back. Perhaps everything was starting to take its toll. He tries to focus on Geralt’s voice.

“Managed to... contract, a harpy nest... outside of town. Not... you with me. It’s pretty close... don’t want to risk you if... bigger than they have told me.” Geralt prattles on to Jaskier. Jaskier seems only able to take in every other word. He tries to concentrate but the bad night’s sleep must be affecting him more than he gave it credit for.

“I asked around this... Yenn. Someone said... over in White Bridge. They didn’t have... might not be her. Worth a... is so close.” Jaskier shook his head, trying to focus but he just can’t seem to hold onto the thread of what Geralt is saying. Geralt finishes up and pats down his neck. He says something to Jaskier that he doesn’t quite catch. He clearly needs to sleep. Maybe he would take more in in the morning. He settles down as best he can in the stall and tries to persuade himself to sleep. There is nothing he can do right now, may as well rest.

-

The next morning Jaskier wakes well rested. He hopes they will begin the journey to White Bridge today. It is only a few days' travel away, if Yennefer does turn out to be there...well that would be a relief. Also humiliating, but mostly a relief. He can just see the look on Yennefer’s face when she finds out.

Jaskier heads to the stall door and hangs over it, hoping to catch a glimpse of Geralt soon. The morning drags on, the rhythm of the day seems off. The stable hand doesn’t come in and muck out like he did the day before. Eventually Jaskier hears a sound in the yard and leans over the stall as far as he can, hopefully waiting.

Geralt and Roach enter the stables, Jaskier immediately senses an atmosphere and smells the rank scent of stale alcohol. Did Geralt go drinking last night? He does look like death, his hair has been messily shoved back into a ponytail, he has bags under his eyes and he is barely looking at Roach. Roach looked like her normal self but was clearly slightly uneasy at Geralt’s state. Geralt opens the stall and slips the head collar onto Jaskier and leads him outside. He starts busying himself with the tack and their bags. Roach comes over and stands near Jaskier.

_ What’s going on? _

_ *He’s been weird since last night. He came home grumpy and then spent a lot of time downstairs drinking that smelly idiot juice.* _

Jaskier snorted at that, she wasn’t wrong.

_ So...you can speak now? _

_ *I guess so...only words I hear though. They only make a bit of sense to me, But I like this word.* _

“Fuck!” Roach says proudly. Jaskier snorts, of course that was her first word. Before they get a chance to say more, a very grumpy Geralt gets in the way. He tacks up Jaskier clumsily, pulling him around. Jaskier stamps and snorts at him, Geralt grunts in return. His behaviour and frankly his smell puts both Roach and Jaskier on edge. It isn't just the alcohol, Jaskier can smell something else coming off him in waves, and it wasn’t pleasant. 

Geralt finishes tacking up Jaskier and swings himself up into the saddle. As he does the stable hand walks over to them. He also smells of alcohol, but instead of the dark reaking smell that is hanging around Geralt, he smells fresh and bright. He looks up at Geralt with a dashing smile.

“Last night was fun.” he says with a wink.

“Hmm.” Geralt responds, the rank smell increasing ten fold. Jaskier starts to feel like the floor was falling out from beneath him. What did this man mean about last night? Clearly Geralt had been drinking, but he wouldn’t...would he?

“If you’re ever in town again...be nice to spend some more time together.” The man darts forward and places a hand on Geralt’s thigh. Jaskier feels him stiffen and the rank smell gets even worse if that was possible. Jaskier feels like his world is crashing in on him. Geralt has...has just gone off with someone else, after everything. 

Geralt grunts a response and urges Jaskier forward. The man looks disappointed, but heads back to the stables. Jaskier feels like he is wandering through a dream, he can’t quite comprehend what he has just witnessed. As they leave Murivel and head south towards White Bridge, the enormity of everything starts to set in.

Jaskier feels a cold rage start to spread up through him from his hooves up his legs and into his chest. He has opened his heart to Geralt, he has taken a curse for him, he has suffered many indignities as his steed, only for...only for Geralt to get drunk and fuck a stable hand? That awful smell...was that the smell of regret? Shame? He knew if he had human eyes he would be crying by this point, and here he is still playing the dutiful steed. He wants desperately for Geralt to just be off him. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. He just wants to be free of this body and free of fucking Geralt. 

The further they walk the more riled up he feels. He just wants the bastard gone. Up ahead they are entering some denser woodland, the road is narrow and has several low hanging branches. A thought crosses Jaskier’s mind...he can use one of those…

Before he can think too hard about it, driven purely by his rage and sadness, Jaskier begins to pick up his pace. Geralt reacts quickly, digging his heels in and pulling on the halter.

“Woah, calm down girl. Steady.”

_ Fuck you, Geralt. _

Jaskier starts running full pelt, aiming himself at one of the low hanging branches. He ducks under it and feels Geralt get yanked from the saddle with a satisfying grunt of pain. Jaskier pelts forward, not slowing down just running and running until he can’t think anymore. It is just him and this horse body. He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t look back. He wants to be as far as possible from Geralt of fucking Rivia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Horsing around...we start to unpick what the hell happened. Why Is Geralt being such a meatball?
> 
> Feel free to add me on tumblr ^^ https://www.tumblr.com/blog/the-devils-goose


	14. Understand, yes?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you stub your toe?” White Mane asks. Toe, her brain supplied the connection somehow. Yes her toe! She hurt that.
> 
> “Toe...toe, fuck.” she replies. See? She can do this whole words business. She looks up at White Mane with a proud look on her face. White Mane can’t seem to decide if he is happy or sad about it, but Roach doesn’t care. She can say fuck now. What a great word!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, I have been having quite a time of it recently and have not had much space to write. I have been trying to a do a little every day, but honestly, the lovely comments I have got on this have really given me a boost to keep going. So, thank you so much for that! 
> 
> Things have calmed down a lot so I have lots of time to write now so will be focussing on the final stretch of this fic. I am so excited to write the next few chapters, so much nonsense and angst to come.
> 
> CN there is a brief mention of nausea in this chapter. Starts at:  
> “Understand yes…” she tries. Then a thought catches her.

“FUCK” The sound flows so easily from Roach’s lips. The pain radiating out of her toe is both shocking and seems to hurt not just her toe but her soul. Knocking her hoof never felt like this. Why were two legs bodies so delicate? “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It’s like the more she says that word the more bearable the pain becomes. As the pain subsides, the realisation washes over her. Had she just spoken in two legs speak? 

“You can speak? Jaskier?” White Mane asks, a note of desperation in his voice. 

“Fuck.” she answers, testing the word out in her mouth. Damn that is a satisfying word to say. Her mind seems to comprehend what it meant. Kind of like a good direct snort it had many uses: a curse, a come-on, a warning or just a nice noise to make.

“Did you stub your toe?” White Mane asks. Toe, her brain supplied the connection somehow. Yes her toe! She hurt that.

“Toe...toe, fuck.” she replies. See? She can do this whole words business. She looks up at White Mane with a proud look on her face. White Mane can’t seem to decide if he is happy or sad about it, but Roach doesn’t care. She can say fuck now. What a great word!

White Mane quickly shuffles them out of the stables and towards the inn. This one was much busier than the last one. Something about that makes Roach uneasy, she sticks close to White Mane and keeps her head down. White Mane heads towards the weird stall thing in the back, a bar was it? While White Mane speaks to the two legs behind it Roach looks around. This place smelt a lot worse than the place they had stayed before. The two legs in here also look a bit more intimidating. 

Roach shifts uncomfortably. Loud Mouth’s body was not small, but she felt small when faced with this crowd. A lot of them were staring at her and White Mane. Most of them just seem curious, but few seem to be staring in a much more hostile fashion. She wishes Loud Mouth’s clothes were less...well loud. She feels like she sticks out in this crowd and she does not care for the feeling. 

White Mane finishes talking to the two legs behind the bar and catches Roach by the arm. He guides her up some stairs to a room. Once inside he shuts the door and turns towards her.

“Can you understand what I’m saying?” he asks. “Jaskier?” Roach looks back at him, she understands the words, but doesn't know how to respond. 

“Understand...fuck!” she repeats proudly. White Mane looks back at her intently. 

“Jaskier? Do you understand me? Yes or no?” White Mane looks at her with an almost pleading look. The words make sense to Roach..but forming them herself feels like trying to see through fog, only hazy shapes. 

“Understand yes…” she tries. Then a thought catches her. Maybe she can get him to understand. “Jaskier, n…” Before she can get the word out an overwhelming sense of nausea overcomes her. She doubles over and begins to retch. Nothing comes up but her stomach feels like it's twisting. White Mane immediately is by her side.

“Jaskier, are you ok? What’s happening?” he asks, sounding worried. Roach tries to speak but every time she tries to make a sound she retches again. White Mane waits patiently next to her, rubbing her back gently until it subsides.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to speak if you can’t. Hopefully someone will know where Yenn is so we can get you fixed.” Roach looks up at him as he speaks, her eyes watering. She hopes he is right. “Come on, let's get you to bed.” White Mane walks her over to the weird platform thing two legs sleep on. Guess that means it's called a bed? He settles her down and begins to busy himself around the room. He leaves the room and fetches a jug of water. 

“Are you thirsty?” he asks. 

“Thirsty. Yes.” she says, she doesn’t feel the nausea this time thankfully. White Mane nods and pours her a cup of water. Roach drinks it gratefully. They settle in for the night neither of them saying anything else until it is time to sleep.

-

The following day White Mane drags her out of the inn to follow him around another market. He keeps her closer this time. Roach rolls her eyes but stays close, she doesn't want another two legs yelling at her again. He seems to want to speak to nearly every person in the market. Roach tunes him out mostly. He keeps asking about someone called Yenn? He mentioned Yenn last night. Maybe that was the dark-haired two legs who smelt like magic and trouble? Maybe she could help. Roache hopes so.

After White Mane has bought food he goes and looks at a board near one of the larger buildings. He looks interested in a piece of paper stuck to it. After he takes it they head back to the inn. When he gets inside he goes immediately to a short two legs who is cleaning a table, they have a short but animated conversation. White Mane looks much happier afterwards. Roach hopes that was good news.

They head back to the room to put away the food White Mane bought. After he is finished White Mane takes her down to the stables so White Mane can tend to Loud Mouth. Roach hangs back and leaves them to it. She’s tired after the day in the market and she knows tending to Loud Mouth, well her really, calms White Mane. He always nickered on to her and seemed in better spirits afterwards.

After they are finished, they head back to the room. White Mane seems tenser than before. Perhaps the brushing hadn’t helped this time?

“I don’t know how much you can understand me, but I have to go on a hunt. A harpy nest. So I will be leaving soon. I promise I will come back, but I need you to stay in this room. Do you understand?” he looks into her eyes as if trying to see if she understands. She does understand, but she doesn’t like it.

“Understand...leaving, yes.” she replies. White Mane pats her shoulder and begins to put on his armour and weapons. After he is finished, he sorts some bread, water and an apple for Roach. She smiles at him and eats. 

“I’ll be back.” he says. “I promise.” he adds and leaves

-

Roach sits in front of the fire for a long time after White Mane leaves. Watching the fire has become one of her favourite pastimes, she can’t get over how vivid the colours are through two legs eyes. However, the fire only distracts her for so long. She isn’t quite sure why but knowing White Mane is going on a hunt makes her nervous. What if he gets injured? What if he dies? What would her and Loud Mouth do then?

She gets up and starts to pace across the small room. The action helps work out some of her nervous energy but also makes her get overly warm. It’s been several hours since she ate and the warmth is making her thirsty. The jug White Mane left only has some dregs of water left in it. Roach tries to pour it into one of the cup things. Unfortunately, she manages to spill most of it on the table instead of getting it in the cup. She huffs in frustration and drinks what’s there.

Hours pass and Roach is still thirsty. She stops pacing, but the thirst is still distracting. She wants White Mane to come back so he can find her water. As time drags on she wonders if she can just find some. Everyone needs to drink right? Worst comes to worst she knows there are troughs of water in the stables. Maybe she could go and talk to Loud Mouth for a bit. She takes in a deep breath, squares her shoulders and heads to the door.

She had watched White Mane operate the door, but it still takes her a few minutes to work out how to operate the handle. Once she manages to open it and close it again she feels quite accomplished. She can do this. Maybe she doesn’t need White Mane for  _ everything _ .

She creeps out into the hallway, it is thankfully deserted. She gets to the top of the stairs down into the main part of the tavern and pauses. She is nervous, she has no idea what to expect of the other two legs. Her dry mouth pushes her onwards and she carefully descends the stairs. They still present her balance quite a challenge, so when she makes it to the bottom without incident she quietly congratulates herself. She peers out of the doorway into the main room of the tavern. It is busy and loud with two legs drinking and laughing. No one seems to have noticed her. The door to outside is a short walk along the back wall. Roach thinks she can make it without being seen or having to worry about talking with anyone.

She takes in a deep steadying breath. She can do this. Roach steps out, walking quickly towards the door. But before she can get there, her path is blocked by a red-maned two legs in a deep blue rather large dress. 

“Jaskier, you sly fox. I thought I saw you sneaking upstairs with that dashing witcher friend of yours. And now, here I find you trying to sneak out the back. Some girls might assume you were trying to avoid them.” she says leaning in close with a sultry smile. She smells very strongly of flowers. It’s so heady it makes Roach’s nose itch. Her heart starts to thump in her chest. Jaskier? That’s what Loud Mouth calls himself isn't it? Fuck. This two legs knew Loud Mouth. She needs to get out of here. She does her best impression of a charming smile and tries to back away.

“Leaving.” Roach says, hoping it means what she thinks it does.

“But you only just came downstairs! It’s been so frightfully boring since the last time you left. Stay awhile and humour me? Please?” The two legs backs Roach up against the wall. She racks her brain for what to say or do next. Her mouth is still bone dry.

“Leaving, thirsty.” she tried.

“Then let me buy you a drink. Come on.” the two legs grabs her arm and pulls her through the crowd to the bar. Roach doesn’t know what to do other than follow. When they get to the bar the woman says something to the large two legs behind it and they are both handed large mugs of odd smelling liquid. Roach is so thirsty that she immediately gulps some of it down. It tastes foul, bitter and burning. She coughs and places the mug back on the bar. She is not drinking any more of that. The red-maned two legs laughs and claps Roach on the back.

“It does taste like watery piss here. Shame they haven't got anything better.” the two legs says, taking a long sip from her own cup. Roach stands awkwardly not knowing what to do. “No need to look so nervous Jask, I am not angry that you left. I knew what I was getting into.” the red-maned two legs says, nudging Roach in the shoulder.

Roach shifts, she knows she needs to say something. This talking business was so new to her. What did White Mane or Loud Mouth say when they wanted someone to go away? She squares her shoulders and tries to do her best impression of grumpy White Mane.

“Hmmm. Fuck.” she tries to growl. It comes out much higher-pitched in Loud Mouth’s voice. The red-maned two legs giggles and pushes even closer to Roach.

“I thought you'd never ask.” she says lowly, then pushes right into Roach’s space, her face close to hers. Her breath is warm and smells like that horrible bitter drink. Without giving Roach a moment to think she grabs the front of Loud Mouth’s doublet and pulls Roach to her, pressing her mouth over Roach’s. Roach flounders and makes a high-pitched squeak. What on earth is this two legs doing with her mouth? The red-maned two legs is moving her mouth on Roach’s and pushing her tongue against Roach’s lips. Roach lets it happen for a few moments out of shock. She opens her mouth at the insistence of the two legs and the two legs slips her tongue into Roach’s mouth. 

Roach’s first instinct is to bite the intruding tongue. She tempers the urge just in time to stop the bite from being more than a nibble. The two legs moans into her mouth at the action. Something about the sound makes Roach feel strangely hot all over. Now, as a horse Roach was not averse to some friendly nose touching, maybe even some nibbling, but what in apples holy name was this two legs trying to do? Roach had seen two legs do this sometimes, she was never really sure what it meant, sometimes it looked like a ritual for mating? Did this two legs want to mate with her? 

Before she can think much more about it the red-maned two legs slips one of her hands up to tangle in Loud Mouth’s hair. The action feels unreasonably good, Roach can’t help but moan back and let the two legs carry on with whatever she wants to do. She moves her mouth back on some kind of auto-pilot. She doesn’t really understand what this body is doing but she just lets it happen anyway. The heat she feels flushed all over begins to pool downwards towards her groin. It feels good...until she starts to feel a strange sensation between her legs. What the fuck is happening? She pulls away from the two legs and gasps for air.

“Fuck.” she murmurs quietly while staring down at her own bulging crotch with confusion. She staggers back from the red-maned two legs and turns and runs back towards the stairs. She can hear the red-maned two legs make a surprised noise and call after her, but she is done with downstairs. She doesn't care how thirsty she is, she’s had enough of two legs and their horrible bitter idiot juice. Once she gets back to the room, after several scrabbling attempts to open the door, she leans against the door and stares down at her crotch again. The bulge has subsided somewhat, but she still couldn’t quite get over the strange sensation. Two legs bodies are weird, she longs not for the first time for her own body back. She crawls up onto the bed and hugs her arms around herself. She just wants White Mane to come back. 

A short while later he does come back, he looks grim and he doesn’t look at her. He takes off his armour and dumps his swords to the floor with several resounding thunks. Roach watches him, she hopes the hunt went ok without her. He fetches some more water, much to Roach’s relief. He splashes some on his dirty face and wipes it off with a rag. He still hasn’t looked at Roach. This begins to make her uneasy, but before she can do anything about it White Mane leaves the room and she hears him stomp off downstairs. Roach finally gets herself a drink and settles herself back on the bed. There seems like nothing better to do than sleep, so she settles herself down and eventually sleep claims her.

Much later, given the way the light has changed, Roach hears the door to the room bang open. White Mane stumbles in stinking of the foul-smelling idiot juice. He looks sad. Roach has no idea why, did the hunt go that badly? She watches as he slumps into the chair by the fire. He curls in on himself with a sad noise and after a few long minutes begins to snore. Roach settles herself back down to sleep. Hopefully the morning would bring better things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Horsing Around...wtf did Geralt get up to?
> 
> Feel free to add me on tumblr ^^ https://www.tumblr.com/blog/the-devils-goose
> 
> Honestly love getting your comments, you have been such lovely readers. Please feel free to yell at me.


	15. Bitter idiot juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s late and Geralt hopes that Jaskier has kept himself out of trouble. He enters the inn, it is bright and lively considering the hour. He pauses before heading upstairs, he could really use an ale after that contract. He sighs and heads towards the bar. People move away as he approaches, he is covered in dirt and guts from the fight after all. As he draws closer to the bar he sees a familiar flash of blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did Geralt do I hear you ask? Find out now!
> 
> Your comments are life! Thanks so much for coming on this journey with me. ^^

Geralt sits back in the chair near the fire and watches Jaskier sleep. It had been a strange day and Geralt is replaying the events trying to make some kind of sense of them. Jaskier had spoken, for the first time since Geralt found him at the side of the road. First the lute...and then this. Something is changing, is Jaskier getting better? It looks like it, but something still feels off about it all. Geralt keeps trying to put his finger on what it is that gives him this feeling. He looks at Jaskier sleeping, spread out across the bed like some overgrown dog. The Jaskier he knew never slept like that...unless he was very drunk first. Geralt smiles at that thought before a twitch of sorrow tugs at him.

When he had spoken Geralt had been so hopeful that maybe the curse had been broken, that maybe he could have Jaskier back. But, it seems he could only parrot words back at Geralt and even then that had seemed too much for him at points. He wonders how much he understands of what Geralt says. The last few days it had seemed like he understood some of it, unlike at the beginning where Geralt may as well have been speaking to Roach for all it seemed that Jaskier understood.

Geralt tries to put the thoughts out of his mind, he stretches and then curls up in the chair. He weirdly likes sleeping in chairs, it reminds him of falling asleep surrounded by his brothers at Kaer Morhen on long winters nights where he was too full of ale to care to go to bed. He wishes they were here to advise him, well Lambert would probably just mock him but even that would be a comfort. He’d forgotten how lonely the Path was without Jaskier’s voice keeping him company. Geralt drifts off to sleep in the chair, comforting thoughts of his brothers easing his dreams.

-

The next day Geralt wakes well-rested but slightly stiff from sleeping at an odd angle in the chair. He gets up and dresses slowly. He knows he has a lot to do today, but this kind of thing is the stuff he hates most, dealing with people. He needs to get supplies, which on its own would be fine, but he also needs to look for work and ask around about Yenn. 

He decides to take Jaskier with him, probably safer than leaving him alone, even in the inn. He resolves to keep a closer eye on him this time. After they have eaten a quick, simple breakfast they head out. The market in Murivel is large thanks to the presence of the Dwarven bank. The town is a local hub of trading and Geralt is hoping that this means it will also have a good trade in gossip. He begins the long arduous process of asking after Yenn, buying supplies they need as he goes. 

By the time he has made it round the market he is nearly out of coin and patience. Nobody has heard anything of a sorceress nearby. He goes to the last stall, the woman behind it has a kind face and Geralt tries his best to school his features into an equally friendly expression. Whether this works, or whether the woman herself is just friendly to everyone no matter how intimidating, Melitele only knows. But, after a long winding conversation, she tells Geralt his best bet is the short barmaid at the inn Geralt and Jaskier are staying in. Apparently, she is particularly adept at collecting gossip from the surrounding towns. Geralt thanks her and gets her to point him in the direction of the town’s notice board. 

He looks over the various notices and finds what he is looking for: a decent looking contract. This is for a harpy nest. Could be very lucrative if he wasn’t stiffed by the alderman. He takes the contract and heads back to the inn. Luckily, when they enter, the barmaid the woman on the stall described is in cleaning tables. Geralt approaches her, once again trying to seem as non-threatening and friendly as possible. People tended to only share gossip with those they were not terrified of after all.

“Good afternoon, a woman on one of the market stalls said you may be able to help me. I am trying to get word of someone.” Geralt says politely. The barmaid turns to him fully and looks him over with interest.

“Aye, Greta sent you I’m guessing? I may be able to help you. Though I have my price depending on the information.” she says as she raises an expectant eyebrow. 

“That’s fair. I am looking for a sorceress. Dark hair, violet eyes, very powerful. Goes by the name Yennefer of Vengerberg.” he tells her. She keeps her expression schooled blank, if she knew something she didn’t show it.

“And who would you be?” she asks curiously, looking him over again. She must know he is a witcher at least.

“Geralt of Rivia.” he replies. She raises an eyebrow as if in recognition. She then looks to Jaskier with interest.

“And who’s he?” she asks pointedly.

“His name is Jaskier.” Geralt says stiffly, he hopes she doesn’t pry further.

“The famous bard? How exciting, will he be singing tonight? I do hope so, it would be so exciting to see such a famous bard perform.” she begins excitedly.

“No.” Geralt cuts her off abruptly. He racks his brain for something better to say. “He is ill, ailment of the throat. Can’t sing or speak. Such a shame.” Geralt tries to look appropriately sad for his friend. The barmaid eyes him, not necessarily with suspicion but clearly trying to get a read off him. Geralt schools himself into giving nothing away.

“What a shame… hopefully he will return when he is well. Anyway, I may have heard something that may be of interest to you… Cost you two crowns.” she says, still looking him over with curiosity.

“A fair price.” Geralt hopes he is right. He flips her the coins, which she catches deftly. She smiles back at him.

“I heard tell of a beautiful dark haired sorceress that was staying in White Bridge about two days ago. I imagine she will either still be there or the folks there will know where she's headed.” she tells him. Geralt feels a tightness in his chest loosen slightly. This could be good news. It did have the sound of possibly dubious gossip, but Geralt decides to be hopeful. Any lead is better than nothing. He thanks her and heads upstairs with Jaskier to drop off the supplies he bought earlier.

Once done, the exhaustion of the day hits him. Constantly talking to strangers and having to put on his friendly non-threatening face was more tiring than most hunts. Being seen as non-threatening required him to school his body, face and voice to play down the raw power he contained. Most humans would see him as a threat unless he consciously made himself seem less so, and even then it was hit and miss. That level of concentration over a prolonged period drained him like nothing else.

After he packs everything away he collects what he needs to groom and tend to Roach. This is something that often helps revive him. He likes the methodical nature of caring for her, and honestly, he likes talking to her. Especially right now, she was almost the only person he could talk to with Jaskier being well, cursed. They head down to the stables, Jaskier keeps himself back, watching people in the yard with curiosity as Geralt sets to work.

“Managed to find a contract, a harpy nest. Looks like it’s not far outside of town. Not going to take you with me. It’s pretty close by and don’t want to risk you if it's bigger than they have told me.” Geralt chatters to her as he works, he can feel some of the day's tension leave him.

“I asked around this morning about Yenn. Someone said she might be over in White Bridge. They didn’t have the best information...it might not be her. But, worth a look as it’s so close.” Geralt finishes up and pats down Roach’s neck. “Don’t worry girl, a harpy nest shouldn’t be too difficult. Promise I’ll be back. Sleep well.” He leaves the stall with a final soft pat to Roach’s nose.

As soon as he leaves her presence he feels the tension of the impending hunt rise in him. He often didn’t take Roach along for hunts if he was staying in a town, but her company was still a comfort he missed when it wasn’t there. The added worry of leaving Jaskier alone in his current state didn’t help. What if this was a hunt that went badly? What if this was the one hunt that went so wrong he never came back? What would happen then? He shakes his head, there is no point dwelling on such thoughts. He had to trust that he would be back. 

After they get back to their room, he turns to Jaskier. He can’t tell for sure but he thinks Jaskier can understand some of what he says. Geralt hopes he does.

“I don’t know how much you can understand me, but I have to go on a hunt. A harpy nest. So I will be leaving soon. I promise I will come back, but I need you to stay in this room. Do you understand?” He looks into his eyes hoping he understands and doesn’t get himself in trouble.

“Understand...leaving, yes.” he replies. Geralt breathes a sigh of relief and pats his shoulder. He spends time carefully preparing himself for the hunt. He carefully buckles his armour, checking it as he goes. He checks over his swords before putting them away in their scabbards and slinging them over his shoulder. He gathers the potions he will need, a couple of harpy traps and a couple of bombs just in case. After he is finished, he sorts some bread, water and an apple for Jaskier. He looks at him, happily sitting and eating, and hopes this hunt goes smoothly.

“I’ll be back.” he says. “I promise.” he adds, hoping he is being true to his word.

-

The hunt had been a hard one. The nest had indeed been larger than the contract had said, they nearly always were. He began by setting two harpy traps and waiting. It did not take long for several curious harpies to start fighting over the shiny objects. The twin booms set what seemed to be every bird in the surrounding trees into flight. Good, Geralt thought, still salty over his rude awakening several days previously. 

The traps had cleared a large portion of the nest, but then Geralt had to go about the tedious task of cutting down what remained of the harpies. It felt endless, every time he thought he was done another one would appear. By the end of it he was achingly tired and irritable. He likely wouldn’t be paid what this nest was actually worth to clear, but he needed the money. Particularly as Jaskier couldn’t earn his keep in his current state. 

Once he collected his fee, indeed less than the contract was truly worth but not terrible either, Geralt drags his tired battered body back towards the inn. It’s late and Geralt hopes that Jaskier has kept himself out of trouble. He enters the inn, it is bright and lively considering the hour. He pauses before heading upstairs, he could really use an ale after that contract. He sighs and heads towards the bar. People move away as he approaches, he is covered in dirt and guts from the fight after all. As he draws closer to the bar he sees a familiar flash of blue.

Geralt tenses, what is Jaskier doing out of the room? He slips closer, hoping that maybe by some miracle Jaskier is back to his old self. What he sees made his blood run cold. Jaskier is in the arms of some voluptuous red-head, their mouths locked together in a kiss. Even from where he stands, Geralt can smell the arousal wafting off the pair of them. Geralt just stares, fresh pain welling up deep in his chest. It looks like Jaskier is back to normal...back to wanting anyone but Geralt. Geralt wants to tear his eyes away but some masochistic part of him can’t stop staring. 

Jaskier eventually pulls himself away and looks at the woman in confusion. He backs away and all but runs upstairs. Something in his eyes told Geralt that no, he was not yet back to normal...this like the lute and the talking is part of his old self falling back into place. Geralt looks away, he hears the red-head call after him but has no stomach to watch any further. He pushes his way over to the bar and asks for their cheapest, strongest spirit. He wants to forget everything.

He downs his first measure of spirits and stalks upstairs. He dumps off his armour and weapons as Jaskier stays silently on the bed watching him. Geralt finds he just can’t look at him or speak to him right now. He has to get out of here, at least for a while. He goes and refills the jug of water and gives his face a cursory splash of water before stalking off back downstairs.

About an hour later and Geralt is leaning heavily on the bar. It is definitely, absolutely not holding him up in any way. He is staring morosely down into his mug. He’d known the moment he had realised that Jaskier had run away that morning that his feelings were not returned...that they would never be returned. However, knowing it and seeing it right in front of him is very different. His chest aches from the rejection and his stomach churns with self-loathing. How can he be so stupid to think that Jaskier of all people would want him? Jaskier, who everyone lusts after, what would he see in Geralt beyond friendship and good stories to write songs about. Hell, Geralt wasn’t even good at providing either of those sometimes. 

The inn has emptied somewhat since earlier, he knows he should get some rest before tomorrow but he just can’t face Jaskier again. Not without more drinks in his system first. He is so lost in his own morose thoughts that he doesn’t notice the person join him at the bar. 

“Long day?” Geralt turns to look at the man speaking to him. It’s a tall dark-haired man that Geralt remembers is the stable hand from earlier. His face is open and friendly. They had exchanged a few words the previous day about Roach’s breeding and temperament. It is a pleasant surprise when humans are friendly, even more so if they like Roach. 

“You could say that.” Geralt responds, taking another sip of whatever burning liquid this inn passes off as spirits.

“That bad eh? Must be if you are drinking that paint thinner.” The man gives Geralt an amused look, his jaw is strong and his eyes are a nice shade of green. Geralt looks away.

“Hmmmm.”

“You been out slaying monsters, witcher? Heard there was a harpy nest, just North of town.” The man continues, he is clearly looking for a story. His eager eyes and earnest voice make Geralt’s chest ache, they remind him too much of Jaskier. 

“There was...not anymore.” Geralt replies, draining his glass. 

“You took out the entire nest? That is quite something...Hey, you look like you could use a cleanup. I...well I have everything you need for a wash in my rooms, if that would please you?” He looks up at Geralt with admiration. Geralt shifts, he probably shouldn’t, but it is nice to be looked at like that by someone, and really he does need a proper wash. He grunts his assent and then follows the man round to the back of the inn. 

The man’s rooms are modest but he does manage to provide a basin of warm water, a washcloth and some nicely scented soap. Geralt strips out of his shirt, in his drunken haze he fumbles getting it over his head. The man simply watches him, Geralt registers in the back of his mind the heat in his gaze and the vague scent of arousal in the air. 

Geralt tries his best to wash, but his coordination has been somewhat compromised by the paint thinner. He drops the soap several times before the stable hand moves over so he is standing by Geralt.

“Here, let me.” he says, reaching for the soap and the cloth. His face is close to Geralt's; he can smell the ale on his breath and the warm horse and leather smell of his skin. Geralt lets him take the soap and the cloth and the man begins to wash him. His touch is gentle and it soothes something deep in Geralt’s chest. It had been so long since he had felt a caring touch. The last time had been...well it had been Jaskier. That thought makes Geralt’s chest feel tight. He forces himself to focus on the man in front of him.

As their eyes meet, Geralt feels his face warm. The way the man is looking at him was full of admiration and want feels good. At least someone wants him, even if Jaskier doesn’t. Even if it is just for a night, he is still wanted. The man finishes washing off his face and returns the cloth to the bowl. They stay close to one another, the moment stretching out, heavy with drunken heat. 

Geralt shivers, whether it’s from having damp skin late on a Spring night or from the way the man is looking at him Geralt isn’t sure. He can see the man’s eyes flick downwards to look at Geralt’s lips. Geralt answers his look with his own glance at the man’s lips, they look good. He can almost feel the irresistible draw towards him. They both lean in closer until their lips touch. Everything else slips away from Geralt apart from the feel of those lips on his. He lets them move together in a haze of lust and the smell of ale. Before he knows it the man's hands are on him and Geralt is running his hands up the man’s back. They get lost in each other's bodies for a long while, pressing softly together.

Memories of wine laced breath and dexterous fingers tangled in his hair creep into Geralt’s mind. Now there are flashes of blue eyes in firelight, whispers of promises about the morning. Geralt tries to push them away but memories of that night flow easily. They overtake the moment before him. He finds himself pulling away from the man. The kind, willing man. He just can’t. His head and his heart are full of Jaskier. It feels dishonest to lie with someone while thinking of another.

“Everything ok?” the man asks. Looking at Geralt, a soft look of concern on his face.

“Yeah. I...this is very nice. I just...I have probably had too much to drink.” Geralt says, not sure how to put it any other way.

“Not surprised with what you were drinking if I’m honest. That stuff is basically turpentine.” the man smiles at him. “You got a room upstairs? Need a hand getting back?” he asks.

“I do, but I should be fine getting myself back. Thanks, for helping me clean up.” Geralt says, standing up and getting dressed.

“You’re welcome. Sleep well, witcher. I hope the morning is kind to you.” The man smiles at him again and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. 

Geralt leaves and slowly makes his way up to the room. He is much drunker than he realised, the stairs are certainly a challenge even for his witcher agility. He fumbles with the door and opens it more suddenly than he intends. The door bangs loudly against the wall as he staggers inside. Jaskier is asleep on the bed. Geralt flops heavily on the chair, letting the drunken melancholy wash over him. He really is worthless. He lets out a sad sigh and curls in on himself in the chair. The drink is tugging at his eyelids, he wants the sweet peace of sleep. It does not take long for sleep to claim him.

-

The morning is not in fact kind to Geralt. Before he even opens his eyes he can feel the pounding in his head. He lets out a groan and tries to curl even further into himself. His mouth is bone dry and tastes like something died there, probably his dignity knowing his luck. As he slowly gets used to being conscious, he gradually remembers where he is and what happened last night. Yennefer was right about him, he really was a miserable bastard when he drank spirits. With great personal effort, he rises slowly from the chair. He slowly moves around the room collecting their things ready for the journey to White Bridge. Every so often he stands up too suddenly and winces. Jaskier is quiet and uneasy. Geralt doesn’t say much to him, mostly because he doesn’t really know what to say after last night. 

They head down to the stables, Roach is straining over the stall when he gets there. Geralt allows himself a small smile, it is always nice when she is excited to see him. He wastes no time getting her out into the yard and getting her tack ready. Jaskier comes over and stands close to her head, Roach snorts quietly at his presence. 

“Fuck!” he hears Jaskier say, almost as if to Roach. Geralt looks at him curiously before getting on with tacking Roach up. He is far too hungover for this really. He can tell he is not doing a great job, pulling her around more than he should. Roach, ever the patient horse, stays mostly still. She does eventually let out a snort and a stamp when Geralt tightens the girth a bit too roughly. He grunts an apology back at her.

The more this morning drags on the more he regrets the previous night. Not just for the hangover. He regrets seeing Jaskier with that woman, even though he knows that isn’t his doing. He regrets the paint thinner. He regrets letting himself lead on the stablehand, even a little. He regrets drinking anything ever. Drinking only seems to lead to anguish, and here he is being a miserable bastard again. He should really learn his lesson at some point. He gets up onto Roach and makes to leave.

“Last night was fun.” Geralt hears a bright cheery voice behind him. He tenses and sees the dashing smile and cheeky wink of the stablehand. A fresh wave of guilt washes over him.

“Hmm.” Geralt grunts, not really sure how to respond. His hangover heavy head isn’t supplying him with anything useful.

“If you’re ever in town again...be nice to spend some more time together.” The man darts forward and places a hand on Geralt’s thigh. Geralt flinches, now he really does feel bad for leading him on. He also feels uncomfortable with Jaskier seeing this. He really shouldn’t be considering everything, but something about Jaskier seeing him with another man makes him feel uncomfortable. He nods and grunts another response and urges Roach forward. The man looks disappointed but gives Geralt a knowing look. He can probably see that the morning has not been kind.

As they leave Murivel and head south towards White Bridge, Geralt lets out a sad sigh. He just wants this whole thing to be over. He really hopes Yenn is there. He really hopes she can help. It will be nice to be around her, despite their differences over the years, she is one of his closest friends, and he could really use a friend after the last few weeks.

Roach seems a bit uneasy, she picks up the pace without a command from Geralt. He tightens his grip on the reigns. He pulls on the halter and digs his heels in. His senses go into overdrive, is there danger nearby? He doesn’t sense anything immediate. 

Roach is galloping towards a narrower section of road with overhanging trees. Geralt tries desperately to calm her.

“Woah, calm down girl. Steady.”

This seems to have the opposite effects as she runs full pelt towards the trees. Fuck. He isn't sure what to do. This is so unlike her. He tries to steer her out of the way of the tree with no success.

A low hanging branch catches Geralt in the chest and he feels himself being yanked bodily from the saddle. Pain blooms first through his chest and then his back as he lands heavily on the road. All the wind is knocked out of him and he lies there gasping for breath for several minutes before sitting up. Roach is nowhere to be seen, she must have carried on running. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Horsing Around find out what had happened to our favourite bard trapped in a horse. Was running away really that smart of an idea? Answer: no definitely not.
> 
> Feel free to add me on tumblr ^^ https://www.tumblr.com/blog/the-devils-goose
> 
> Honestly love getting your comments, you have been such lovely readers. Please feel free to yell at me.


	16. Tristram and Isolda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier runs, runs like there is no tomorrow. He just keeps going, he can feel his horse body fatiguing but he ignores it. His mouth is frothing and he can feel that his body is drenched in sweat. Eventually, he slows because he has to, but keeps moving. The only thought in his head is that he wants to be far, far away from Geralt...and well, everything. Stopping would mean thinking and he really does not want to do that right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier alone! I have been excited to write these OCs, they are based very loosely on my Dad and the horse he owned in his 30's. 
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with me! I have less time to write atm as I am back to work. Your comments mean so much to me. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Jaskier runs, runs like there is no tomorrow. He just keeps going, he can feel his horse body fatiguing but he ignores it. His mouth is frothing and he can feel that his body is drenched in sweat. Eventually, he slows because he has to, but keeps moving. The only thought in his head is that he wants to be far, far away from Geralt...and well, everything. Stopping would mean thinking and he really does not want to do that right now.

The day drags on, and on Jaskier plods. He is thirsty and hungry, but he just doesn’t want to stop. Eventually, his thirst gets the better of him and when he passes a muddy puddle he just sticks his face in it. The water tastes bitter and earthy but the relief his dehydrated body feels is worth it.

Drinking around the bit is a little awkward but doable. Once he has drunk his fill, he turns and bites at the grass at his feet. He is so hungry now. Eating around the bit proves more difficult. It’s not that he can’t do it, but the bit makes it awkward. He pauses, how is he supposed to get it off without Geralt? Same with the saddle. He would rather have them off...but without a human, they are stuck on him. He shakes his head trying fruitlessly to shake the bridle off his head. He runs to the nearest tree and tries to use the tree to pull the bridle off. All of a sudden the bit feels really oppressive, he just wants in off now.

He feels his horse body start to stamp and panic. He tears around the tree trying to shake free of the bridle. He chews and spits, but it is fitted well around his head. It feels like he has lost his head somehow like he is almost watching himself do these things without having any impact on the proceedings. As he tries to catch it and pull it off him using a tree, the reins catch over a branch. Jaskier jerks away and tries to pull free, then flicks his head trying to toss them clear of the branch. All this does is tangle them further in the branches. Fuck. He can’t get stuck here. He is in the middle of nowhere, there could be wolves or monsters… He could starve or die of exposure. 

If the panic hadn’t been overtaking him before it certainly is now. He pulls and bucks, trying to get free, but the reigns holdfast. He lets out a pitiful whinny. Why is this happening to him? He never wanted to be a stupid horse. Fuck, why did he run from Geralt? Now he is thinking about it, it seems like such a bad idea. Whatever Geralt did, he is the best chance he and Roach have of changing back. Fuck, fuck, fuck...he left Roach. What is she going to do?

He lets out another pitiful noise and slips to the floor at the base of the tree. He feels utterly worthless. He hopes Geralt can find him. He’s always been good at tracking...maybe he would find his way to Jaskier eventually...if the wolves didn’t get him first.

“Just when I think you can’t make this anymore entertaining...you always exceed my expectations.” The light teasing voice of the Fae drifts out of the tree. Jaskier looks up, there in the tree is the lithe androgynous body of the Fae. They smile down at him, their eyes full of mirth. “Honestly it’s like watching a great comedic tragedy at the theatre...well maybe more of just a tragedy considering how the three of you are playing it out. But I still find it greatly amusing.” The Fae floats lazily down until he is floating a few feet above Jaskier’s head. Jaskier snorts.

_ I hate you.  _

“Yes, I am sure you do. Better make good use of saying so while you still remember the words.” The Fae looks at Jaskier with amusement.

_ What do you mean? _

“Oh come on. Surely even you are not that unobservant? The struggling to understand humans? Being more of a slave to your equine instincts? Soon...you will start forgetting, then it's only a short time before you forget who you are...and then well, eventually you will just be a horse and that horse will be a bard.”

_ What? No. I don’t want to be a horse. I don’t want to be stuck like this forever. _

“Too bad...such a pity you ran away from the only person who could help free you of the spell. Also..you know...you're stuck on a tree in the middle of a forest very popular with wolves.” The Fae smiles a smile that has far too many teeth.

_ No...I...I don’t want it to end like this. Please you’ve had your fun, you’ve made us suffer. Please just change us back.  _

“Dear, dear...poor little bardling. You destroy a fairy circle and expect to suffer no consequence? Really this is far kinder than the usual punishment. At least you get to live, and I let your dear mutant get away unscathed. Honestly, I am being rather merciful, generous even.”

At this Jaskier launches himself unsteadily to his feet and lunges at the Fae, stamping his hooves aggressively. The Fae merely laughs, a cruel mocking sound, and fades back into the trees. Jaskier continues to whinny and stamp until his throat hurts. He’d been stupid...and now he had doomed them all.

Eventually, he slumps back down beside the tree. There is nothing to do apart from wait for someone or something to find him, either death or a friend. He has no control over which so all he can do was wait and accept whatever destiny choses to throw at him. 

-

The night drags on and eventually Jaskier drifts to sleep. His dreams are unsettled and confusing, it is almost like he is watching a life that isn’t his. He is awoken by a loud crack, his long ears flick up and he jolts. That noise could be a threat. He jumps to his feet and looks around. He feels disorientated, he can’t quite remember where he is. He knows that he did know...but the memories seem to float away like the tendrils of a dream. Wait, who even was he? He knows the name Jaskier, but who was Jaskier...he has a strange feeling that he isn’t a horse somehow. But he had to be a horse, look at his body, four legs...hooves...a long nose? Horse. Something is wrong. He knows it’s wrong. 

He looks around the clearing and doesn’t see anything. He tries again to remember. Eventually, he grasps something...Geralt….and Roach. Roach is the horse and he...he is a bard. He is a bard! That’s it. He is a bard that is now a horse. It all still seems hazy. But Jaskier knows it's important that he holds on to this if nothing else. He is a bard. Roach is a horse. Geralt will save them.

He hears another crack. He startles and backs up against the tree. If this is death coming for him he will at least kick it firmly in the face first.

His eyes keep darting around trying to pick up even the slightest movement. Directly in front of him he catches something. A figure has stepped slowly out from behind a tree. His hands are held in front of him in a calming gesture. Jaskier stamps and snorts nervously. At least it isn’t a monster or wolves...but can this person be trusted?

As the figure gets closer Jaskier can see him more clearly. It’s a man with dark hair and thick beard, he has a fairly slight build, the kind of someone who spends a lot of time walking but not doing the physical labour or farm work. His eyes are soft and kind, he looks overall fairly non-threatening. He edges closer murmuring soothing things under his breath. Jaskier tries to catch them but he can’t seem to make them out. 

The man gets close enough to reach out to him. Jaskier closes his eyes and freezes, waiting for what comes next, whatever it is, death or kindness, he can do nothing more than accept it. He feels a gentle pat to his nose. He gets a strong whiff of woodsmoke and a sharp tang of herbs. He cautiously opens his eyes, the man is still making soothing noises. A wave of relief washes over Jaskier, for now, it looks like the man means him no harm. He nudges the man’s hand gently with his nose.

-

Tristram loves the woods in spring. Seeing the first wave of spring flowers always brings him joy, but it is also an important time of year for collecting various plants and flowers. Snowdrops, wood anemones, wood sorrel, wild garlic and lesser celandine were in abundance at this time of year. Tristram is a herbalist, he might have become a healer if he’d any head for it, but his interest mostly lay with plants and their uses rather than people. The winter is a hard time of year for him in terms of income. So, the spring heralds a time of abundance for many of the plants necessary for his work and he is taking full advantage. 

When he first sees the mysterious horse he is just finishing collecting from a particularly fruitful bank of snowdrops, snowdrops being a particularly powerful ingredient for treatments of ailments of the head. He looks up from his work and catches a chestnut flash through the trees. He squints, he is, unfortunately, getting slightly short-sighted as he gets older. In the distance, he can just about make out the shape of a horse lying at the base of a tree. The horse is probably tied there while it’s rider camps or hunts, Tristram thinks, but it never hurts to check. He walks closer, slowly and carefully so as not to startle the animal. As he gets closer he notices that the horse looks to be in a bad way, scratched, dirty with her tack hanging at odd angles like it had been struggling with it. He looks closer, the horse’s reins are tangled in the dense lower branches of a hawthorn. Tristram looks about, there are no obvious signs of any other people or horses or people in this part of the wood. He listens carefully for any signs further afield, the birds are mostly making territory calls rather than alarm calls, that suggests there has not been any disturbance here for a while.

He turns back to the horse, he guesses the least he can do is free the beast and take it with him to the town. If someone is missing their horse they will likely come looking in nearby towns. He stands up and begins to move slowly closer. He tries his best not to startle the horse but he snaps a twig and the horse jumps and scrambles to its feet. Tristram continues forward, snapping another twig as he goes, it will be better when the horse can see him. Once he gets into its line of sight he keeps his movements slow, his body language non-threatening and murmurs soft calming things. To begin with the horse stamps and snorts, but he doesn’t try to lunge, bite or kick. He can almost smell the fear pouring off the beast. Had it been here all night? If so, no wonder it was in such a bad way. He reaches out and slowly and carefully strokes the horse’s nose, the horse twitches but does nothing. Tristram smiles and gets a little bolder, stroking down its nose more fully. The horse looks up at him as if trying to decide if he is safe. Tristram coos quietly, trying to keep the beast calm.

“There’s a good horse, you’re ok. Not going to hurt you. Would really like it if you didn’t hurt me...just trying to get you out of here. Would like to do that without losing any fingers and keeping my kneecaps intact.” As he talks he edges carefully around the horse’s side to where the reins are tangled and begins to slowly work them loose. He can sense the horse’s tension but it stays still and lets him work. 

Once he works them free, he gently pulls them round back to the horse's head. He pats down the horse’s neck reassuringly. This seems to calm it down considerably. He hopes he can persuade the mysterious horse to come with him. 

“Come on now, walk with me. If you follow me I can give you some food and a good place to sleep. Bet that would be welcome after a night out here eh? Then we can go about finding your rider.” He moves out in front of the horse and pulls on the reins gently. The horse remains still for a moment but moves away from the tree with a relieved sounding snort.

“There we go, a good horse you are, I can tell you know. Got that look in your eye, a good sort. Not like my girl, a beauty to be sure...but a terror.” Tristram natters on to the horse as they walk slowly back to his hut on the edges of the wood. He isn’t sure but the words seem to soothe the still jumpy horse.

The woodman’s hut Tristram had taken up residence in is small. It is a simple thatched hut built into a high bank high enough that the roof and the top of the bank were at the same level. It is shabby but warm, and has enough space around it that Tristram can cultivate some of the harder to find plants he needs for his work. He has always been the kind to prioritise cheapness and simplicity over excess and grandeur.

Off to one side of the hut, the woodland opens out onto a lush meadow where he keeps Isolda, his rather fine mare. She had been a gift from a horse breeder who had been trying to court one of Tristram’s closest friends, Penelope. Penelope is a fierce and beautiful woman who works as a healer in the village. She was wild and adventurous and she had spent most of her life dragging Tristram into one adventure or another. 

Unfortunately for the poor horse breeder, she has no real interest in romance, or men, and certainly no interest in being owned by one in a bond of marriage. So, the gift of a finely bred horse had curried him no favour whatsoever. Fortunately for Tristram, Penelope had no use for a horse so she had given her to him. Tristram had been ecstatic. 

Isolda is a fine white mare who has a gait that was as smooth as a river rock. She is way finer than any mount Tristram can hope to afford. However, despite being of such fine breeding Isolda is a force to be reckoned with. She is a mare with a fierce streak as long as the woman she was originally gifted to. She is smart as a whip and Tristram has lost count of times the mare has outwitted him or done something to put him firmly in his place. He quite often wonders who owns who.

This mare, however, is different. She is clearly of good breeding and is not meek by any means, but she is less fiery and strong-willed than Isolda. She has clearly been through something judging by her condition. Tristram hopes that her rider is alive and well, though part of him has doubts. As he leads the mare to his hut he looks her over again, she is definitely going to need some looking after. 

Once they get there he fetches one of Isolda’s head collars and removes the mare’s tack. It looks like the mare still has most of the travelling equipment of whoever owned her attached to her saddle: there were two bedrolls, food and cooking supplies and what looked to be a very fine sword, a soldier perhaps? The mare calms down noticeably when Tristram removes the bridle and bit. She huffs and moves her jaw around, clearly glad to be rid of it. He makes sure food and water are within reach as he gets started tending to her. The mare eats and drinks with considerable vigour. How long was she out there for? Tristram spends a good while brushing the dirt from her coat and applying some of his salves to the scratches he finds.

By the time he is done, the mare seems relaxed and has perked up considerably. He takes her lead rope and leads her out to the meadow to join Isolda. Hopefully, she will be in a good mood today. As he reaches the edge of the meadow, the white mare’s ears prick up from where she is eating and she turns to look at him. She trots closer and butts him with her head from over the fence, clearly expecting food. Tristram smiles, a good mood then. 

He gently pulls the lead rope to encourage the new mare to come forward. He steps well out of the way so the two of them could meet over the fence. The new mare stands there, her ears forward watching Isolda. Isolda shakes her head haughtily and stamps at the ground a few times...clearly expecting the new mare to flinch or back away. Isolda’s ears flick back a few times before she steps forward and leans over the fence far enough for their noses to touch. She huffs in the other mares scent, the other mare tenses at the contact but relaxes after a few long seconds. Tristram watches Isolda carefully, she has a certain look in her eye...oh he knows that look...that means mischief and a trap. But before he can intervene the white mare has bitten the new mare on the nose. The new mare jumps backwards and stomps with an indignant whinny before lunging forward and biting Isolda back squarely on the nose. 

There is a sickening pause as Isolda, ears back and snorting, pauses. Tristram almost goes to intervene but some instinct tells him to wait, for a little while at least. Isolda stamps a few times, then nudges the new mare’s nose again before heading back off into the field. Tristem lets out a breath he did not know he’d been holding. It seems Isolda has been at least somewhat impressed by the new mare's fierceness. She is now peacefully eating grass as if nothing happened. Cautiously Tristram leads the new mare through the gate and carefully detaches the lead rope. He pats down her neck encouragingly.

“That was high praise from Isolda you know. Not many have the nerve to stand up to her...not even me some days. She’s a smart mare she’ll keep you safe. Just...don’t turn your back on her eh?” Tristram murmurs to her. With that he heads out of the meadow. He hopes the two would get along long enough for the new mare’s rider to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Horsing Around...we catch up with our favourite horse that's a bard. How will she find life when she forgets she is a horse?
> 
> Feel free to add me on tumblr ^^ https://www.tumblr.com/blog/the-devils-goose
> 
> Honestly love getting your comments, you have been such lovely readers. Please feel free to yell at me.


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